Dwindling Flames and Roaring Fires
by youreviltriplet
Summary: Hermione and Krum-the perfect couple. One that everyone dreamed of. But beneath the outward appearances, their relationship is coming to an end, and Hermione isn't sure who to turn to. Is Ron the only solution? Will Krum allow her to live her life?
1. Story Continues on Page 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with it and I make no money from this story.**

**This is the first proper chapter of _Dwindling Fires and Roaring Flames_. This is only my second fanfiction that I have actually written so I would appreciate it if you would review and if you did not like it, please tell me why so that I can make it better. Enjoy!**

* * *

The brilliant Bulgarian sun shone down, reflecting off of a huge lake back into the cloudless blue sky. A soft breeze blew, which was a change from the normally gusty winds of the region. Mountains defined the landscape, shaping a little valley in the centre, where a group of people sat.

They were sat on white garden chairs, facing a white wedding arch with roses entwined around the latices. Underneath the arch, Viktor Krum stood with a smile on his usually sullen face. His bushy eyebrows were raised in genuine delight as the wedding march began to play and everyone turned to look as the young, 21-year-old bride came gracefully down the aisle. Her hair was brown, curly round her shoulders, her dress a spray of creamy silk. She looked as happy as it is possible for anyone to ever be.

She reached the altar and turned to face her soon-to-be husband. He gazed at her in admiration as the priest – a small, white-haired man with spectacles and a thick Bulgarian accent – began to speak.

"Ve are gazzered here today to celebrate the joining of a couple that loff eachuzzer very much. Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger met many years ago, but now zey haff finally decided that their relationship means something more to them. They vill care for eachuzzer alvays, votever the problem, they vill help eachuzzer to solve it," he began, reciting the Bulgarian version of the marriage speech. "And ven vun of them is sick, the uzzer vill heal, ven vun is sad, the uzzer vill comfort." He paused, his spectacles bobbing up and down on his face, and then continued, "Now ve vill haff the exchanging of the rings." He produced a cushion from the air, on which sat two white-gold bands, one plain, the other encrusted with diamonds.

"Now vud you each take your partner's ring and place it on their ring finger," the priest said. The couple did so, the diamond one fitting as snugly as a glove on Hermione's finger, and he continued. "Now – do you, Viktor Krum, take Hermione Jean Granger to be your vife?" he asked. Krum nodded, a proud look in his eyes. "I do," he said in a low voice which you could tell was filled with emotion.

"And do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take Viktor Krum to be your husband?" he asked. Hermione, who looked very tearful indeed, nodded. "I do," she whispered.

"Then I now declare you to be husband and vife!" the priest shouted. He waved his wand and a shower of sparks burst from the tip. They swirled around the couple, who gazed into eachother's eyes. "You may now kiss the bride."

Krum lifted his bride's veil and pressed his lips gently to hers, as he had done so many times before – but this time it was time they were married, finally together. They had waited so long for this moment, ever since Hermione had been a girl of fourteen and Krum a strapping young man, four years older. He had known it was only ever going to be her since that day he had first noticed her in the library. And now he was living his dream.

Hermione felt the exact same way as the kiss broke and everyone sitting there clapped, cheered and wolf-whistled. She loved Krum – had not always loved him, but there was no mistaking that feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she looked at him now. She had tried to be romantic with others, but her mind always came back to him.

She looked away from him into the crowd, where her parents stood clapping. Her mother looked teary-eyed, her father slightly confused, as if he couldn't work out where his daughter had gone. She smiled encouragingly at him.

Krum suddenly touched her shoulder. "Ve are leaving now," he said. She grinned. This was her favourite part of the whole thing. It felt exciting and real, and it felt like Krum was looking after her the entire time, so there was no way for her to be scared.

They made their way over to where a broomstick – Krum's latest model – sat on the ground. Krum sat astride it and pulled Hermione up to sit behind him. She arranged her dress accordingly, and before you knew it they were off, whizzing into the great blue sky and into their life together.

* * *

Hermione remembered that day seven years ago as she woke. Her eyes opened to see Krum lying practically comatose beside her, his eyebrows furrowed as he dreamed. She smiled, four parts love, one part exasperation, as she pushed back the silky bedcovers and put her bare feet to the floor. Shoving them into slippers and shrugging on her furry dressing gown, she quietly tiptoed round to the other side of the bed.

"Viktor… Viktor, honey… it's time to get up, sweetheart," she crooned.

Krum shifted, stirred, and grumbled as his eyes opened to gaze blearily at her. "Vot time is it?" he muttered, stretching.

Hermione laughed. "It's seven o' clock, darling. You'll have to get up soon or you'll be late for training!" Krum was due to start his Quidditch Eurocup Tour in two months; he would fly to Norway with the rest of the team, where the first of the games would be played. He was trying to get in as much training as he could before the tour, but his hatred for anything that involved getting up early complicated things a bit.

Now he groaned and hitched himself up on one elbow. "Good morning, my loff," he whispered tiredly, leaning forward to kiss her. His accent had improved because of all their time spent in England nowadays, but it still had more than a hint of Bulgarian to it.

Hermione returned the kiss. "I'm just going downstairs – the kids will be up by now," she said casually.

Krum nodded. "I'll be downstairs in vun minute," he replied, before rolling over and closing his eyes again. Hermione laughed. "Viktor!" she squealed, pushing him out of bed. Krum laughed too, picking himself up off the floor. "I swear, I vill be downstairs soon," he said. His wife nodded. "See you down there," she trilled, before hurrying out of the door.

Their house was a large affair built just outside London. With Krum being an international Quidditch player, they had had more than enough money to buy a house after they got married. This one was new but built to look old – it had red brick walls with moss growing in between the cracks, and a gravel path round front with a fountain bubbling merrily away to itself. The house had three floors, plus a basement. When Hermione and Krum had bought it, they had known that children were high on their list of priorities – especially Krum's. So buying a house with plenty of space for kids was a must-do.

They had produced three children out of their seven years of marriage – two sons and a daughter. Their first child had been Andrei, a cheeky five-year-old with Hermione's brown curly hair and Krum's aptitude and passion for flying. He was Krum's favourite of the brood, although this was never mentioned.

The second boy was Stefan – he was quiet and shy, and quite a clever boy who obviously had Hermione's brains. He had been born with no vocal cords, and it had taken St. Mungo's a while to put it right. Although by the time he was ten months old he was completely back to normal again, he had never really liked talking, and although he was able to say a lot more than the average three-year-old, it was rarely heard. Hermione didn't like to admit it, but he was her favourite.

Ten-month-old Katerina made _lots _of noise. She was still learning how to talk, but had already mastered the art of screaming until the point of turning purple. She was very much like her father; she had a fuzzy crop of dark hair and dark eyes that looked like black holes in her round, pale face. Her mouth often opened wide to match.

As Hermione came down the stairs now, she heard her daughter yelling from the nursery across the hall. She was about to go and investigate when a maid brushed past her with a, "Good morning!" before hurrying into the nursery. Hermione followed. She didn't like being waited on hand and foot _all _the time, although it made a change from having to do everything yourself, as it had been at her parent's small house in Essex. But sometimes she would have liked to change her own daughter's nappy.

Entering the nursery, she saw the maid cradling a wailing Katerina in her arms. Hermione put her arms out. "Here, I'll take her," she said softly. The maid looked surprised, although Hermione often tried to reason with the maids. "But… but Mrs Krum," she began, before Hermione cut her off. "Don't worry. She's my daughter; I can do things for her once in a while."

She reached out and plucked the baby from the woman's arms. The maid looked even more surprised, but walked quickly out of the nursery. Hermione walked out too, holding Katerina tightly, going down the stairs to the ground floor of the house, from where she could hear shouts from Andrei and many sounds of forks and plates scraping together. A maid walked across her line of vision as the shouts got louder and louder.

"Hey! That's _my _toast!" shouted Andrei's shrill voice.

"No, it's not," muttered Stefan's calm one. Hermione laughed inwardly at his tone.

Andrei yelled, "Give my orange juice back!" so loudly that Katerina's grizzling suddenly became loud sobs once more. Hermione sighed.

"Andrei!" she called. "Don't shout so loudly, you'll make your sister upset." She appeared as if by magic round the corner of the kitchen, where she saw Andrei and his brother sitting at the large table, eating toast and boiled eggs and making a mess in the process.

Andrei cried, "Mummy!" at the sight of her and ran to hug her, holding out hands sticky with butter and egg yolk. Hermione backed away.

"Morning boys!" she said brightly, keeping a close eye on her son's sticky appendages. "I'll hug you when I put Katerina down, and you wash your hands, okay? Then maybe after you finish your breakfast we can play a game before school starts!" Both Andrei and Stefan had private tutors who lived in the house with them – they had never been to normal school for Krum feared that they would be endangered if they did. Hermione had tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't budge. Stefan and Andrei had school from eight o'clock until half past two every weekday, much to their disappointment.

Both the boys perked up with the mention of a game, and went back to the breakfast table to finish their toast. Hermione put Katerina in her baby seat and went to fetch her bottle, chatting as she did so.

"So, boys – excited for the trip to Bulgaria next week?" she asked brightly.

Ever since Andrei had been born, Krum had been adamant that his children would not simply sit in England all year long. Instead, for half of the year the entire family returned to Bulgaria to live in their home in a small wizarding community of Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. Every one of the children had been born there. Krum's mother and father, Mariya Krum and Viktor Krum Senior, also lived there, and had been there for every birth to see their grandchildren. They lived near to the family's Bulgarian home, and whenever the family moved back there for half of the year, Mariya Krum would always welcome them home with gusto.

The family had only come back to England two months ago, but since Krum was going to be competing in the Quidditch Eurocup this year, the family was going to visit the Bulgarian side of the family for a week before he had to leave. Mariya Krum had been insistant that they come – after all, she 'might not get to see Viktor again after that competition!', as she put it. Always worrying, that was Mariya.

Andrei answered, "No – Nana Krum will give me lipstick kisses again!" He pouted and crossed his arms, obviously not pleased with the idea at all.

"But darling, you'll get to see Grandpa Krum and he'll go flying with you again," soothed Hermione. Krum's father, Viktor Krum Senior, was as passionate about flying as his son and grandson, but his passion was a different type to his son's. He found Quidditch to be an amusing game as well as a serious sport, and although he had played the game competetively back in the sixties and seventies, he enjoyed playing innocently with Andrei on a toy broom in the garden too. Viktor Krum Junior did not.

Considering Hermione's words, Andrei took a bite of toast. "I suppose," he said finally, in a reluctant tone. His mother laughed, her shimmering brown hair wafting around her shoulders. Now that she was famous, she had access to the toughest of haircare spells, and easily turned it from flyaway and bushy to shimmering and silky with one flick of her wand.

Stefan spoke quietly, "I like Auntie Ivana. She teaches me."

Indeed, Mariya's sister Ivana had taken a shine to Stefan the moment she had seen his small form swaddled in blankets. From then on the two of them had had a special bond. She taught him things that even Hermione didn't know – things about Bulgaria, about its secret history and culture. Stefan loved her. To him, she was a fountain of knowledge, of things he could collect and store inside his head until that special day when he could use them.

It was Ivana who had taught both boys to speak fluent Bulgarian by the time they were two. Though neither of them spoke with an accent, they could jabber away as well as native Bulgarians. It was the only language in which Stefan would say more than two words in. Hermione laughed.

"Of course, Cousin Ivana will teach you,"she said calmly. Her son smiled broadly.

Andrei piped up, "Grandpa Krum said next time I see him, he'll teach me how to do a Wronski Feint!" His little face was red and shiny with excitement. His mother tutted. "Just be careful dear – anything could happen." She turned to Katherine, who was sucking a fist like a lollipop and making murmuring sounds as she did so. Hermione unplugged the hand from the baby's mouth and stuck the bottle in.

"Go on, boys – get ready for school," she called. The two youngsters rushed off, Andrei complaining noisily, Stefan quiet and calm. Hermione gazed after them, so happy simply to be their mother and Krum's wife.

* * *

Krum got home late that evening. Hermione had put all three children to bed, and was waiting in the large living room for him. When she saw him come through the doorway, her heart leapt, as it always did when his face entered her line of vision. He was clad in Quidditch robes, a shiny red with green and white trim. His face was shiny and red too. Upon catching sight of his wife, he smiled.

"Herm-own-ninny!" he teased, using the name he had formerly addressed her by back when they were teenagers.

He came forward and kissed her softly on the lips, putting his arms around her neck. Hermione thought she caught a whiff of alcohol, but decided that she must be imagining things. "How was everything today, then?" Krum asked. Hermione considered this.

"Fine. The boys behaved themselves for once, and Katerina said another half-word." Her husband's grin widened. "Oh, really? Well, my day vos fine too. But actually, I felt lonely. I missed you. I vos longing for the time ven I could go home and see you vunce more." He caressed her cheek with one hand. Hermione smiled too. "I missed you too. But at least you're home now. Maybe we can take this upstairs?" she ended suggestively. Krum laughed.

"Brilliant idea, my darling."

He hoisted her over his shoulder, much to her delight, and carried her up the stairs. They were almost at the top of the second flight when a high voice called, "_Daddy_!" Andrei had woken up and come running out of his room towards them. Krum quickly returned Hermione to the floor.

"Hello, my little flier!" he said to Andrei, who beamed with pride. "I waited and waited for you to come home," he announced proudly. His father smiled fondly. "Well, now it's time to go to bed," he said, scooping Andrei up. "I'll come and tuck you in." The pair went into Andrei's room, and Hermione could hear muttering coming from inside. Within a few minutes, Krum was out again, motioning that Andrei was sound asleep.

"Now – where were we?" he grinned, in a mocking English accent. Hermione giggled like the fourteen-year-old she had been when they'd first met. She reached out a hand to Krum. _He might have his flaws, _she thought. _He might come home late sometimes, or forget to call when he's out. But I love him._

Krum took her hand, and they ran up to their bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

"Now, childrens, vot vud you like to do vile you are staying vith us?"

Mariya Krum sat on an old wooden chair in the huge stone kitchen. Her grandchildren were sitting opposite her at the table. Stefan sat on Ivana's lap. Andrei, who sat next to them, declared, "I want to go flying with Grandpa!"

Mariya scowled. "Oh, that flying business is just too much for me to handle! You get it from your father, I know, and he gets it from his father too." She paused. "But I suppose you are allowed if the older vuns vatch you carefully." She turned to Stefan and Ivana. "And you, Stefan? Vot vud _you _like to do?" Stefan looked up at his great-aunt. Ivana was a relatively old woman, about seventy years old – at least ten years older than Mariya. Her hair was long, silky and pure white, and there were so many wrinkles on her face that you couldn't count them. Now they stretched out as she smiled down at Stefan.

"Stefan has already said that he wants to study with me while he is here," she said softly, in a flawless accent. Ivana always spoke quietly, with few mistakes. She had lived in England, working as a Bulgarian translator for Gringotts, for more than five years before returning to Bulgaria, and could switch from an English accent to a Bulgarian one in a fraction of a second. She smiled down at her little great-nephew.

"He is a little learner, is my Stefan," she said fondly.

Mariya smiled too, but tightly. She didn't like it that Stefan adored her sister far more than he did her. She busied herself by getting up and plucking Katerina from her carrycot.

"Hello, my young vun," she cooed, her greying hair tickling the baby's face.

Katerina gurgled back, making Mariya smile genuinely. She had to admit that out of all of the children, Katerina was her child of choice. The youngest, the smallest, and most definitely the noisiest, Mariya saw something of herself in the baby. Mariya had two sisters – Ivana and Raina. Raina was the eldest, at over eighty years of age, but had disappeared when Voldemort had returned to power. Mariya preferred not to think about her anymore.

Now, she straightened up and made her way back to the table, just as her son and daughter-in-law entered the room.

"Hello!" Hermione cried cheerfully, kneeling down to let the boys rush into her open arms. After their good-morning hug, she stood up and brushed herself morning she was wearing a white summer dress that hugged her curves and showed off her tanned, glowing skin. She smiled with white teeth at Krum, who stood next to her. He was clad in shorts and T-shirt – the perfect Bulgariam summer outfit. Behind him stood his father, Viktor Krum Sr. He was a tall, balding, grey-haired man with a snowy moustache and a pot belly. He nodded to Ivana, and hugged his wife, being careful not to squash Katerina, who was still clutched in Mariya's arms.

Andrei got up from the table. "Grandpa Krum?" he asked hesitantly.

The old man smiled. "Yes, Andrei?" he said. His grandson looked up at him. "Can you teach me how to do a Wronski Feint like Daddy does today?" he mumbled, looking embarassed. Krum Sr laughed a deep belly laugh.

"Of course I vill teach you, Andrei! Ve vill go out and start practising after breakfast." He sat down at the table, gesturing for Andrei to come and sit next to him. "Did you know, ven I vos in the Bulgarian team, I did a Wronski Feint every day in my training! Vunce, in a match, I performed the move at least three times!"

Viktor Krum Sr had been an excellent Quidditch player in his day. He had led the Bulgarian team to victory on more than one occasion – when he was the team's Seeker, they had won two Quidditch Eurocups and had come second in the World Cup. Now that he was old, he missed the excitement of his old lifestyle, and often couldn't help but reminisce whenever any Quidditch reference entered the conversation.

Andrei eagerly listened. His face was flushed with excitement as he leaned further and further in his seat, trying to catch every word his grandfather said.

Hermione noticed this, and smiled towards her son. She too sat down at the table.

"So, today, Viktor and I are going to go and walk around town, to see everything before the Eurocup starts," she declared. This was met with general approval. Mariya was quick to warn them about the dangers of the city, to watch out for swindlers and to make sure they were back by 2 o' clock. Hermione nodded.

"Of course we will," she agreed.

So after breakfast, she and Krum set out to the city. They strolled –apparation seemed far too lazy, especially with the sun shining down so invitingly – to one of the many parks that Sofia had to offer. It was large, with a duckpond in the centre. Willow and beech trees lined it, some of the willow tendrils skimming the top of the glassy surface and triggering ripples, which spread out across the pond. Hermione sighed and let the cool breeze blow her hair back from her face.

"It's really lovely to be here, isn't it?" she asked dreamily.

Her husband did not answer. Hermione looked up at his face and saw that he wasn't really concentrating on her at all. He was staring at something very intently. She followed his gaze to where a pretty Muggle girl walked just ahead of them. She had shimmering blonde hair, and was wearing a tight top and an incredibly short skirt. Hermione scowled – although out of jealously or plain disapproval, she could not say.

"Viktor, stop gawking at her!" she hissed through her teeth. She could feel her cheeks flushing red. Catching hold of Krum's arm, she swung him to face her as they walked along. "Viktor!" she said again.

Her husband looked confused, and at the same time, annoyed. "Vot?" he asked, as if he had just come out of a trance.

Hermione sighed. "Never mind," she muttered. She walked a little faster, so that Krum had to run to catch up. Soon they had passed the Muggle girl. Krum had done things like this more than once already. A lot more than once. But Hermione wasn't going to let it ruin her holiday for her. She put the incident to the back of her mind, and stopped, turning to her husband. "Let's go and see if there are any good shops near here. We can buy some souvenirs and things for you to take with you to the Eurocup, and some presents for the boys." Krum nodded. "Good idea, my loff," he said, looking slightly relieved at the change of topic.

They headed down onto a high street, and before long had found any number of gift shops and department stores from which to choose. They soon found some presents for their sons, for Katerina, and for Hermione's mother and father. They bought matching photo frames for themselves, and then got into a small portable Muggle photo booth.

They made stupid faces in the first, smiled in the second, laughed in the third and kissed in the fourth. Hermione made a mental note to drop it off at a shop she knew in Diagon Alley where the photos could be charmed to move.

Then she checked her watch. "Oh, Viktor, it's nearly two. We should get going."

They gathered their bags and snuck into an alleyway, where they apparated back to Mariya's house. But all the while, the thought of what had happened in the park lingered on Hermione's mind. She brushed it away. There was no harm in what Krum had done… was there?

* * *

The week passed in a blur of hot Bulgarian sunshine that seemed to seep into everything it touched. Soon the family found themselves back at home, surrounded by cases and boxes and bags – all the things that you are left with after you return from a holiday.

And while Krum was to return to his Quidditch training, Hermione was going to have a busy month. Not only did she have to attend a red carpet event next week, but she had also promised her parents a visit. Not that she did not _like _visiting her parents or anything – but there was something about them, something she couldn't quite place, that was different or strange about them.

It was that blasted memory charm that had done it.

Back when she was seventeen, eleven years ago, Hermione had modified her parents' memories and made them move to Australia to escape from Voldemort.

When she had lifted the Memory Charm, they had seemed fine. But as Hermione got older, she realised that there was something different about them – the way her mother got that lost expression in her eyes, or the way her dad spoke with less vigour than he used to. And there was something strange about the way they both took such an interest in Hermione's life these days.

Sometimes – in moments of built-up annoyance that she always regretted afterwards – she wished that she had just left them as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, who lived in Australia.

Remembering this led Hermione's train of thought to reason it had ever happened in the first place – Voldemort's rise to power once again. When she and Harry Potter and Ron –. No. She didn't like to think about him. Not since that day, ten years ago.

But no. That was ancient history now. Hermione decided to think about the future – and, more specifically, what she would wear to the event next week. It was a launch for a new high-fashion shop, where Hermione's own brand of clothing – Babes with Brains – would be sold. Hermione hadn't quite got used to the fact that she had her own clothing brand yet. It was rather new, and she hadn't had a lot to do with it.

She had spent most of the meetings concerning it with a book under the table, to be honest.

* * *

"Hermione, Hermione, over here!" shouted a tinny, speaker-distorted voice. On the television, Hermione, wearing a long, fringy red dress and clutching a white purse, looked in the direction the voice had come from through large, kohl-rimmed eyes.

The real Hermione sighed, feeling half exasperated, half loving. Her mother loved watching her on the telly.

She had arrived at her parents' house with Andrei and Stefan in towe, a grizzling Katerina in her arms. Stefan and Andrei had headed straight for the toybox in the corner of the room. Her mother had immediately swooped down from nowhere and plucked the infant from her daughter, plopping her down into a highchair and sitting down herself, gesturing for Hermione to do the same.

It was when she sat down that she had noticed that her mother was watching a news report of the red carpet event on a wizarding channel.

Her mother, though a Muggle, did try very hard to be part of Hermione's life, which Hermione appreciated, but a lot of the time she missed her old parents. They had been very proud of her and her accomplishments, yes, but also slightly bemused about what went on in her life. They had never pried or tried to act as if they knew what they were talking about when it came to the wizaring world.

"So, Mum," she said now, over the noise of herself answering the questions of a particularly loud reporter, "how's everything going?" Mrs Granger smiled. "Fine, sweetie, just fine. Your father and I have been careful to watch the wizarding telly whenever you're on it." She gestured to the television with one pale hand. "But anyway, how are you, darling? It seems like we hardly ever speak to you anymore!" She spoke slowly and carefully, as if choosing her words perfectly before she allowed them to come out.

Hermione smiled. "I'm quite well, actually," she said. "As you can probably tell, the kids are too," she laughed, gesturing to where Andrei and Stefan were playing, Andrei loud and excited, Stefan quiet and calm.

Her mother laughed.

"I love it when you bring them here," she chuckled. She gazed over at the small figures in the corner, and as she looked, Hermione noticed some of the old spark return to her eyes. But it had gone soon after it had arrived.

They sat and talked for a while. Her mother plied her with questions about everything and anything – about Krum, the children, the Eurocup. Mr Granger arrived and sat down for a few minutes, before he gave in to his grandchildren and went and joined in with their game in the corner. He was a tall man, with very little hair that had still retained its colour – the same colour as Hermione's.

Eventually, Hermione had to say that she had to go. She kissed her mother on the cheek, hugged her father, and gathered her children. As she walked out the door, she felt a pang of guilt for leaving, but quickly brushed it away.

* * *

The last few days and weeks trickled away until it was the day that Krum was scheduled to leave. As his family were only coming for several of the games, and not staying in Norway, he would leave by himself. His family gathered in front garden to say goodbye, as the family butler, Hubert, brought out Krum's bags and broomstick and set them on the path. Krum followed him.

"Vell, I am sad that you all vill not be joining me in Norvay," he addressed his family. "But you can all come and vatch my games. I vill miss you all ven I am in Norvay by myself."

He leaned down to hug Andrei.

"Be good for Mummy, my little flier," he whispered in his son's ear. Andrei nodded vigorously. "Yes, Daddy!" he said adamantly, still nodding. Krum smiled, and went to hug is younger son.

"Now, you behave too," he said to Stefan. "I vant to hear all about how good you haff been ven I see you again."

Then Krum took Katerina from Hermione's arms. He hugged her, kissed the top of her downy head, and then gave her gently back to Hermione. He looked down at his wife. He was about to say something when suddenly, a man appeared next to them. He was small, middle-aged, with a rather badly disguised toupee. Turning to face Krum, he cried, "Ah, Viktor, old buddy. We have to go! The rest of the team is already in Norway, and we have a press conference in an hour and a half."

Hermione scowled. It was Krum's manager, Barney Bragg. He was American, and was manager to many famous witches and wizards there, such as Celestina Warbeck. But he was also very pushy, and controlled Krum's almost every move.

Now Krum sighed. "Vell, I suppose I haff to go," he said. He bent and kissed Hermione on the lips, hugged her quickly, then gathered his bags and went to join Mr Bragg.

"Goodbye, everyvun!" he called. Then he was gone, disapparated. Hermione sighed.

"Come on in, kids," she called. "You have some homework to be getting on with, as I recall!" E

* * *

Cheering spectators filled the stands of a crowded Quidditch stadium, as players in red robes came zoomed through the air. On the opposing side, players clad in black, red and gold robes were being cheered on. It was the Bulgaria vs Germany match.

Hermione, Stefan and Andrei (Katerina was at home) were sat in the top box, next to several other relatives of the players. The top box was large, with waist-high glass walls, and then an open top that could close if the weather got bad. But currently the sun was shining brightly, and only a few puffy white clouds dotted the blue sky around them.

"Ooh! I can see Daddy, I can see Daddy!" Andrei squealed excitedly. He pointed through the glass to where a figure was darting in and out of sight.

Suddenly there was a roar from the crowd, and a booming voice cried, "And Schmidt scores! Fifty points to Germany! Now, that was a good shot!" Spectators screamed, some in anger and some in joy. Hermione did not scream – she wasn't really one for screaming anymore – hadn't been since her late teens. She simply clapped politely and plastered a sympathetic grimace on her face.

They watched in silence for a while as the Quaffle was passed around the pitch – caught, passed, stolen, dropped, and caught again. Then suddenly another huge wave of noise erupted from the stands.

"Hausmann misses! Levski scores! That's fifty points to Bulgaria!" shouted the commentator. "And the teams are tied – but wait! It looks like Krum has seen the Snitch!"

Hermione immediately scanned the pitch for a glimpse of her husband. Her gaze fell on him – he was diving to the ground! The German seeker followed him, diving down too. But even as Hermione watched, Krum pulled away at the last second, leaving the German seeker to crash into the ground. Luckily, he had managed to slow down, and only fell lightly. All the same, the crowd went wild.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a Wronski Feint! Krum has been using that move since he was eighteen, and it looks like it hasn't let him down yet!" roared the voice.

"Go Daddy! Go Daddy!" yelled Andrei. Even Stefan, in a moment of excitement, shouted, "Woohoo! Go Daddy!"

A small voice with a heavy German accent piped up from further along the wall, "_My _papa ist better than _your_ papa! _Er wird winnen_!" A chubby, blonde boy of about six stood glaring at Andrei and Stefan, a large German sasuage being gripped tightly in his fist. He was wearing tight leather trousers that were of a horrible greenish-brown colour, and held up by braces. Andrei frowned.

"My daddy's just as good as your daddy," he pouted. Then he noticed what the boy was wearing. "Why have your trousers been glued on?" His forehead wrinkled in concentration as he tried to work out the strange garment.

The boy pouted too. "They are not glued on, they are _lederhosen_! They _komme aus _Germany, my country. Where my papa is from. He is going to win _das spiel_. Because he is ten times better than _dein _papa!" He stamped his foot on the ground. Andrei stood up to his full height – which wasn't very tall – and stepped forwards.

"Don't say that!" he cried angrily. Hermione stepped forward too.

"Now, Andrei, honey, don't be rude," she said calmly. She heard cheers as Germany scored another fifty points.

From behind the boy opposite there was also a voice, also speaking with a German accent. "Klaus, I told you not to bother anyone! Come here now." A woman suddenly appeared. She had long, shiny blonde hair that was loose down her back, and wore a dress that reminded Hermione of _The Sound of Music_, except tighter and shorter. It showed off the woman's unnaturally skinny figure, which was basically a skeleton covered in flesh-tone-coloured cellophane. Hermione shuddered. She may not be perfect in the eyes of the media, but at least she didn't look like _that_.

The little boy – Klaus, it seemed – was still talking.

"_My _papa is the best Quidditch player in the world!" he boasted. "He _ist die _Seeker _für _the German team. He can do many tricks – not like _your _papa. He can only do that stupid Wronky Faint trick."

Without warning, Andrei launched himself at Klaus, screaming and yelling and biting and kicking. Hermione, as she tried to pull him away, heard him muttering, "My daddy… is the _best _player… in the whole… wide… world!" Klaus simply screamed as the pair rolled around the floor. Their mothers followed them around as they rolled, each mother clutching her son and attempting to tug him off of the other boy. Well, Klaus wasn't fighting. He was crying. But Andrei, on other hand, would not let go of the other boy.

Suddenly, the commentator's voice boomed out, "And Krum has seen the Snitch! He's really flying, there, and he's dodging, he's weaving, _oh_, and now Thomas has seen it too, they're racing to get it, if Krum gets this then Bulgaria wins… and they're diving down to the bottom of the pitch, now, and Thomas is reaching out, but wait, he misses, _oh, _he's fallen – and _Krum gets the Snitch_! Bulgaria win! Bulgaria win!" Both Klaus' and Andrei's heads shot up and they immediately stopped fighting. Andrei rolled off Klaus and ran to the glass window.

"M…Mama," sniffed Klaus. "Did we lose?"

His mother scowled. "Yes, Klaus." She turned to look at Hermione, who was dusting Andrei off. "We lost. Come. Let's go and meet Papa."

Hermione took Andrei and Stefan silently away, trying to ignore the glares that were shooting her way. She did not get to see Krum; he was surrounded by reporters and fans. She waved to him, and he waved back. She also caught a glimpse of the German Seeker, looking very downcast. He had one arm around his rail-thin wife, and the other around Klaus. When they looked up and saw her, they glared once more. Hermione quickly gathered the boys and apparated back to the house. EN

* * *

It was early on Sunday morning, the morning after Bulgaria's victory over Germany. The children had all been tended to by nannies and were now playing contentedly in their rooms.

Hermione had woken at eight o' clock and was now on her way downstairs in her dressing gown. As she entered the breakfast room, a maid appeared and pulled back a chair for her, before placing a newspaper – the _Daily Prophet_ – on the table and leaving, a, "Good morning, ma'am," hanging in the air behind her.

Hermione sat down at the table, lifting the newspaper.

The maid reappeared, this time holding a glass and pitcher of juice. Hermione thanked her. And then turned to the newspaper and focused on the front page. Her mouth went completely dry, and her face seemed to drain of blood. On the front page was plastered the headline:

TOO MUCH FIREWHISKY FOR KRUM? in bold type. Above this was a picture of her dear husband. He looked dazed, his eyes blank, but his mouth was open in laughter. As the picture moved, Hermione saw that he had his arms around two girls on either side of him. They were both blonde, with thin, toned bodies. They were also on the… busty side. They looked nothing like Hermione, who had a slim frame and a chest which left something to be desired. Fingering a coil of her curly brown hair, still in shock, she began to read.

"_Following his victory over Germany at the Quiditch Eurocup yesterday, international Quidditch player Viktor Krum was spotted partying in a Norwegian nightclub last night. A source told _The Prophet _that Krum was seen to be drinking vast quantites of alcohol and partying wildly. _

"_He was drinking far too much, especially since he's got a big match in a week and needs to be training was dancing with loads of girls as well. He seemed to forget that he has a wife already," they say._

_The Bulgarian superstar was seen to be dancing with and kissing three separate girls, including Norwegian supermodel Eva Hurst._

"_They were becoming increasingly intimate as the night went on," reveals our source. "Towards the end they just couldn't keep their hands off of eachother. It was horrible to watch – especially as you know that his wife and three children are waiting for him at home."_

_Indeed, Krum's wife Hermione and three children Andrei, Stefan and Katerina, are currently residing in London and only see Krum when they come to his games as they did yesterday. But what will happen now that they find out about this husband and father's terrible betrayal? Story continues on page 3."_

* * *

**A/N: I really hoped you like my story! Please REVIEW so I can get advice on how to make my story better, eg how to portray my characters more realistically. Also do you think Hermione is like her character in the real book or not? That was one thing I was really worried about. Please review and tell me what you think!**


	2. Crumbling Endings and New Beginnings

**Hey you guys! This is the next chapter, I hope you like it, and I'm sorry for not posting a chapter in a while. Enjoy the chapter everyone! Also please, please review and tell me how to improve my story! Now please enjoy Chapter 2!**

* * *

The bright sunlight slipping in through a crack in the curtains woke Ron.

Squinting, he glanced at the clock. It was half past eight. He sighed and heaved himself up onto his elbows, smiling fondly as he noticed the bump in the duvet beside him. He had woken up to that for the last two-and-a-half years. He hadn't gotten tired of it yet.

He lifted his legs out of bed with effort, as if they were made of lead.

"C'mon, honey – time to wake up," he mumbled groggily.

A groan came from the bump in the duvet. "Go away!" a female voice muttered. Her husband laughed. He stood up shakily, went round to the other side of the bed and bent down. A lock of her silky blonde hair had been shaken free of her tight bun. He brushed it back from her face, and kissed her lips softly.

"Come on," he coaxed softly. "It's Sunday – you know what happens today."

* * *

Hermione sat still in shock at the breakfast table. The newspaper fell from her hands and landed with a rustle on the floor.

How could he? How could her husband – her _husband_ – have done something like this?

She leaned down to retrieve the newspaper, picked it up, and turned to the rest of the article. She skim-read it, phrases like 'wild night out' and 'abandoned family' leaping out at her. As she read, a single tear welled up in one eye, and spilled. It made a _plop _as it landed on the paper.

Before she knew it she was full-on sobbing – complete with choking, snorting and shaking of shoulders. She should have known something like this would happen. She should have anticipated it, she should have _done _something.

Then a small voice brought her sobs shuddering to a halt.

"Why are you crying, Mummy?" Stefan asked. His face was concerned.

Hermione looked up into his peaky face. "M-Mummy's fine, Stefan, baby, d-don't you worry," she stuttered. "She just... um, hurt herself. That's why she's crying."

Her son didn't look convinced. He took a step forward and reached out his arms to hug his mother.

"I hope it feels better soon." As he pulled back from the hug, Stefan glanced down at the newspaper. Hermione quickly tugged it out of sight. "Go and get dressed, sweetie," she said. "Then maybe you and Andrei can go to the park with Nanny." She waved her hand.

"Go on. I'll be up soon."

With a last worried glance back at his mother, Stefan toddled away on chubby little legs. It was hard to believe he was only three years old. Hermione had a feeling that he knew she was lying about her tearstained face.

* * *

Ron began to brew coffee in the kitchen. The smell drifted around the room, reminding him of days back at the Burrow at summertime. Images of his mother cooking breakfast, of his brothers, of Percy and George and... Ron brushed thoughts of Fred from his mind as a pang of loss filled him.

A voice came from the door of the kitchen and Ron looked up.

"Good morning, darling." His wife was standing in the doorway, wearing a filmy pink nightshirt and sporting a bad case of bedhead. She sauntered into the kitchen and propped herself up against a barstool.

Ron smiled. "Morning, Gabby. Sleep well?" he asked.

She nodded her head. "Yes – I _always _sleep well when you are 'ere." She took the mug of coffee he offered her, and, leaning forward, planted a sweet and simple kiss on his forehead. Ron grinned.

He cupped her chin in his hands, looking at her properly for the first time that morning.

She definitely was her sister in miniature – she had the same pale eyes that were deep pools, and the silky, white-blonde hair that marked her as having Veela heritage. Her face was heart-shaped and well-defined. She had flawless skin – although she achieved this with many creams and potions. Ron marveled at her beauty and at the fact that she had deigned to marry him – _him, _a Weasley, and not even the most attractive or exciting Weasley boy at that.

He knew that he loved her more than anything else in the world, and that the feeling was mutual.

But he also knew that his attentions had not always been directed towards her.

* * *

Throwing powder into the living room fireplace, Hermione waited.

Soon enough, the charm had worked. She looked around and saw her husband crouching by the fireplace of his hotel room in his underwear and nothing else. He looked tired and hungover. Hermione scowled.

"I read _The Prophet_, Viktor," she spat. "I saw what you did. Start explaining." Krum frowned, his forehead wrinkling.

"I am so, so sorry, my loff," he began. "I-I did not know vot I vos doing. I suppose I vos excited about vinning the match. The team and I decided to go out for a few drinks and a dance... I got a bit carried avay."

"_A bit carried away_?" Hermione said incredulously. "You put our names _all over _today's papers, Viktor. You humiliated yourself _and _your family. You can't just apologize to me and expect it all to be over." She shook her head and sighed.

Krum leaned forward. "Baby, I promise I vill never do anthing like this ever again. I loff you so much, you and the children. I vud never do anything to hurt you – ever. I feel so guilty about vot I did. I am, so, so sorry, I can't even find the words to say it. Maybe I can make it up to you – I vill apparate back this afternoon and spend an afternoon vith all of you. Okay?"

Hermione considered this. She was about to agree – after all, her husband seemed regretful enough. Of course he loved her – he would never, ever repeat his actions. But then a voice came from across the room.

"Oh, Viktor!" purred the voice. "Are you ready to come back to bed? Do you vont me to tuck you in?"

Hermione's stomach lurched as a blonde woman strutted in from what appeared to be the bathroom. She was wearing a tiny thong and a bra that seemed incapable of holding up her impressive chest. As she came closer, Hermione could see that she was followed by another woman who seemed to be exactly identical to her. She saw Krum swallow.

"I... I, um, I...," he began. But Hermione cut him off. "You _bastard_!" she cried. "You complete _bastard_! I-I trusted you! I believed that you were sorry!" She paused for breath. "You can bet on it that when you come home, _your family won't be there_!" And she wrenched herself back into her living room.

* * *

When Ron had first met Gabrielle Delacour, she had been ten years old, and wet and dripping from the Black Lake of Hogwarts. Although he had been labeled as her saviour, he hadn't really paid her much attention. He had been fourteen, after all. A boy that age doesn't pay attention to the sopping ten-year-old when her grateful – and pretty – older sister is around.

Several years later, at the wedding of his brother Bill and her sister Fleur, they had met once more – but again, there were prettier girls around, and Gabrielle had only been thirteen years old anyway. Ron had been seventeen then. At that point in his life, there was only one girl that made his heart race.

When he was nineteen, after a short stint working at his brother's joke shop, he had taken a job as Keeper for the Chudley Cannons.

Travelling around Europe and America with them had been fun. And once, at a game in France, he had run into Gabrielle. She was seventeen, fresh out of school, and very pretty. He was twenty-one, a successful Quidditch player, and bigheaded. He hadn't recognised her. He was too drunk to even know her name when he slept with her that night. He left the next day, confident in the knowledge that he would never see her again.

And then... then he turned up at his brother's house and she was there.

He walked in – twenty-four years old, with an enormous fortune and an ego to match. In his eyes, he could do anything. And then he saw her – _her _– sitting at the table. She looked up at him with eyes that he remembered clearly from that night three years ago. They were bright blue, deep and glittering. They seemed to mock him.

After that, they ran into eachother too many times for it to be mere coincidence. Gabrielle grew on him, and at the same time, took him down a peg or two. She stripped away the layers of ego that had smothered him for so long. And he showed her that forgiveness is possible, even in the most extreme circumstances.

Eventually, romance bloomed. He proposed – she accepted. And now, their lives were growing even more.

* * *

"Kids, I've got something to tell you."

Hermione gazed at her children, who were sitting on the sofa looking inquisitve. Katerina was lying in a carrycot by the side of the sofa, gurgling to herself. Andrei looked at his mother.

"What is it, mummy?" he asked. "Are we in trouble?"

"No, no, Andrei, darling... it's nothing like that," Hermione reassured him. She paused. "But I think we're going to have to move out of the house for a while. Your father... your father... well, anyway, we can't stay here for a bit."

Andrei's forehead wrinkled. "But _why_?" he asked, trying to understand.

His mother sighed. "Your daddy isn't coming back to the house for a while. He's going to stay in Norway. So he said that we should stay with... some _friends_... until he comes back. And maybe after he comes back, I'm not sure. But anyway, we can't stay here."

On the inside, Hermione was in turmoil. She didn't know what to do – all she knew was that she couldn't stay in that house. She didn't know who she was going to stay with, who she could rely on. But she just couldn't stay here for now. She knew that she was probably being stupidly irrational – her husband hadn't really committed the crime of the century. But she just couldn't help herself.

As the children went back to their rooms looking more than a little confused and quite upsetm Hermione ran through her mental list of friends and acquaintances.

There was Celestina Warbeck, her long-time girlfriend and celebrity best friend. But she couldn't just turn up on _her _doorstep, and besides; Celestina was doing a tour in America right now anyway. Then there was... Hermione thought for a while. She couldn't really think of anyone else – after becoming a celebrity wife, her circle had friends had gradually dropped away until there was nobody left in it. Her old friends from Hogwarts had drifted away into their own lives.

But... maybe... no. She hadn't seen either of them in years, not since... well. Not for a long time, anyway.

* * *

Ron stopped reflecting on past times and instead leaned down to kiss his wife. He knew that whatever had happened in their past, he wouldn't give her up for the world now. She leaned against the barstool and kissed him back softly. Suddenly she broke off the kiss and put her hands to her stomach.

"Ah!" she squeaked. "I felt it move."

Smiling, Ron looked down. His wife's stomach was slightly rounder and larger than it normally was. They had found out a month ago – she was expecting a baby in December. Today was her first check-up at St. Mungo's, and he couldn't wait to here what was going on inside his wife, couldn't wait to know what his child would be like.

He patted Gabrielle's stomach. "It knows something's happening today, eh?" he laughed. His red hair fell over his eyes as he spoke. Chuckling, he pushed it away. "Anyway, we'd better start getting ready, shouldn't we?" he asked. "Our appointment's at eleven." His wife nodded.

"_Oui_, darling. I shall go and get dressed now, then," she smiled. "When I get back, I expect there to be toast on the table!" And she slipped past him and out of the kitchen. Ron grinned.

He was just about to get some bread out of the bread bin, when there was a crack from the living room and a voice called out, "Hey, mate, came to wish you luck!" Ron hurried into the room. A man was standing in the middle of the room, having obviously just apparated into it. He had messy black hair and glasses balanced on his nose. Ron didn't have to look to know that under the untidy fringe, he would find a lighting-bolt-shaped scar.

"Hey, Harry," he said cheerfully.

Harry Potter grinned back at him. "Sorry for the interruption, but like I said, I wanted to come and wish you luck for St. Mungo's today," he said apologetically. "I've got a big thing at the Ministry in an hour _and _I've got to apparate back to Norway this afternoon, so I decided to come now and say good luck."

Ron laughed. "Thanks, mate. Although you _are _kind of showing me up with the whole I'm-an-Auror-plus-I-play-for-England thing. I've got a wife I need to hold onto."

Laughing, Harry said, "Nah, I'm fine with what I've got, thanks." Ron smiled back. "Speaking of which, how _is _Cho, anyway? Still doing her Daily Prophet thing?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, she's fine. A bit annoyed that she hardly gets to see me these days, but what can you do?" He brushed his hair back from his face. "Anyway, I've got to get back to London to get ready for this Ministry business. Hope it all goes well for you today."

Ron nodded and gave his friend a hug. "Good luck yourself – heard England beat Sweden last week. You're playing France soon, right?" Harry nodded and grinned, then stepped back into the middle of the room again. "Yeah. Tough game. But anyway, I've got to go. Good to see you – I'll call in when I'm free next, 'kay?" Then he was gone, apparated away. He was always like that during tournaments – especially big ones like the Eurocup.

* * *

Hermione flipped through her address book – the one that was encrusted with gemstones that Krum had given her. She went from name to name to name, but couldn't find a single one that sounded right. She wished she had actually planned something before telling the children instead of letting it all out in a panic-induced rush.

She bit her lip as the book fell open on the P section.

Harry. She could go to Harry. Couldn't she? No, she decided. Now that she thought about it, his loft that he shared with Cho was far too small to house three children. And besides, he was at the Eurocup, she remembered now. He played Seeker for the England team. Cho was lucky to have him.

So who could she call? Who could help her now? She flicked through page after page... there was Dean and Ginny Thomas, but they lived had two small children of their own, and were expecting a third in five or six months. She couldn't just dump her own children on them too.

Seamus and Lavender? No. They lived in Ireland. Besides, she didn't have a recent address, and they had probably moved again by now.

She had lost all of her friends from Hogwarts after marrying Krum. They had all just slipped away without her really noticing, and eventually she was left with only two or three people she could contact. She flipped a page in the address book and her eyes fell upon a name she knew only too well. She didn't know why she had his address; she hadn't spoken to him in years. Hermione hesitated. She couldn't think of anything else to do. Nobody else would let her in after all those years of no contact whatsoever. But he was different. He would help her.

She started slowly up the stairs to pack.

* * *

As they apparated back from the hospital, Ron contemplated the situation. He was going to be a father! The nurse at St. Mungo's had told them that they knew the gender of the baby and could tell them, but they had decided to keep it a surprise.

"It seems much more real now, does it not?" Gabrielle asked pleasantly as they arrived back in the living room. She yawned and stretched. "I think I will go for a little nap. All this has made me quite sleepy."

"Sure, sweetheart," Ron said.

Leaning down, he kissed her softly. "You give that baby all the rest it needs," he laughed. Gabrielle laughed too. Then she started to walk slowly and carefully up the stairs to the bedroom. Ron began to make his way to the office; he needed to research some Quiddicth moves to practice for next year, when the Chudley Cannons were playing in the British League.

He sat for about half an hour on the Muggle computer they owned. But just as he was turning it off, a page of notes clutched in his hand, the doorbell rang.

Ron wrinkled his forehead. "Who could that be?" he asked, mainly to himself.

The doorbell rang again. Ron hurried to the front door and pulled it open. He got the shock of his life.

There, standing on the doorstep, was Hermione Granger. She was surrounded by two bulging suitcases and two little boys. She held a baby in her arms. Ron didn't know what to say or do. He stepped back. "Eer… um… I…" he stuttered. Hermione smiled weakly.

"Er… hi!" she said, and stepped forward towards him.

* * *

**A/N: And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Chapter 2 of **_**Dwindling Flames and Roaring Fires**_**. I tried not to make it too long, I'm really sorry if it gets boring in places! I hope you like the style of this chapter and the way it goes back and forth. Please, please review and tell me what you like, what you don't like, whatever! Thanks! **

**-Ellie**


	3. Ranting, Ranting and a Bit More Ranting

**So I got some positive and some negative reviews from my last chapter. A lot of the people who reviewed said that they didn't like seeing Krum in this light, and you know what? I don't really like it either. But he was never one of my favourite characters, and I wrote this because I always thought he had a mean side and I wanted to explore it. But I will just let you know that this story is mainly about Hermione, Ron, Gabrielle and a bit of Krum as well. It's not all about Hermione and Krum. Sorry :( **

**But anyway, here is chapter 3. I hope you like it!**

* * *

"So what you are saying _est_... your husband has, how you say... cheated on you?" Gabrielle asked. She was sitting next to Hermione on the creamy leather sofa in the living room, and was bouncing Katerina contentedly on her knee. She reached out a hand to pat Hermione's shoulder. As she did so, Hermione noticed that Gabrielle looked even more like her sister from this angle. Her hair was sleek and blonde; her hands were long-fingered and gentle as they patted her shoulder. She felt a sudden surge of jealousy towards her. She hated her for being young, for being happy, for being married to someone who loved her. Hermione let a single tear dribble slowly down her cheek.

"Oh, no, _ma cherie_, do not cry!" Gabrielle cried, her lilting French accent deepening. Hermione couldn't tell whether she was being genuinely nice or not.

Gabrielle turned to face her. "Hermione, we will fix this. I know that we have not spoken since the wedding of my sister, and we do not know eachother very well, but I will try and help. Everything will be _bon_. And Ron will too, will you not?"

She looked up at her husband with raised eyebrows. Ron looked reluctant, and he was obviously trying to avert his eyes from Hermione and her brood. He looked down at the floor.

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

He stood from the chair in which he was sitting and paced around the room a few times. Then he took a deep breath, and shook his red hair out of his eyes, as he had often done when he was a teenager, back when his life had been easier. Sighing, he raised his gaze from the floor and stared down at Hermione for the first time since she had arrived. Hermione quickly looked down at the floor, putting a hand out to stroke Katerina's hair from where she sat on Gabrielle's lap. Gabrielle looked up at her husband once more.

"Ron, _bon-bon_, would you please put on the kettle? I think Hermione needs some tea to drink." She gestured to where Hermione sat on the sofa. Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Actually, Gabby, I was thinking that I could go out and, err, buy some, um, things if Hermione is gonna stay with us," he mumbled. His wife nodded.

"Okay – be back soon though. I will make the tea," she replied.

Ron was out the door with his jacket on before she had even finished the sentence.

* * *

Ron hurried down the road, his hands jammed into his jacket pockets. The sun was shining, but the day was cold.

_Why_. Why on _earth _was she here _now_? Right when his life seemed to be going so perfectly. She had already turned his world inside-out once, but now she was back to do it again? It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

She had broken his heart, shattered it into a million tiny pieces.

She had turned away from him.

She had lost him.

And now she was back, begging for forgiveness and for shelter? What did she expect from him? For him to just smile and allow her back into his home without a second thought? They had lived together for almost a year after the defeat of Voldemort – they were engaged to be married. And suddenly, with no warning, she had torn away from him.

She said he was insensitive, that he was crude and irritating.

That they weren't meant to be together after all, all they had been through. She had been ruthless with her insults.

The next day she had packed her things and left. He had tried to contact her, to get her back, but she wouldn't allow it. The next thing he knew, she was dating that prat of a Quidditch player, Viktor Krum. She wasn't regretful or sad. In the magazines her face shone with happiness and new love. So Ron had turned away.

He didn't want to spoil her seemingly perfect life.

He had gone his own way – first Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, then the Chudley Cannons, then finally Gabby. His life had gone very well, and was slowly but surely becoming perfect. He had a gorgeous, funny, amazing wife, a brilliant best friend, a family who loved him and a baby on the way.

And she had to come and ruin it.

* * *

Hermione sat on the sofa, while Gabrielle hummed to herself while she poured the tea.

She heard the front door slam shut, and Ron came through the living room into the kitchen, his arms full of bulging carrier bags. He mumbled a greeting to Hermione as he passed, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead. He slammed the bags down on the top of the bar. Gabrielle frowned and pulled him into the recesses of the kitchen.

Andrei leaned over to talk to his mother from where he sat.

"Mummy, who's that grumpy man?" he asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Andrei, we don't say things like that in other people's houses," she chided him softly. She got a book out of her bag and motioned for her sons to join her.

"Come here, we can read this. It's your favourite book!" The boys hurried to sit in front of her. Katerina gurgled in her lap as she began to read.

"_Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump. A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish king who decided that he alone should have the power of magic. He therefore commanded the head of his army to form a brigade of witch-hunters, and issued them with a pack of ferocious black hounds. At the same time, the king caused proclamations to be read in every village and town across the land: "Wanted by the king, an instructor in magic."_

_No true witch or wizard dared volunteer for the post, for they were all in hiding from the brigade of witch-hunters. However, a cunning sharp man with no magical powers saw a chance of enriching himself and arrived at the palace claiming to be a wizard of enormous skill. _

_The charlatan performed a few simple tricks, which convinced the foolish king of his magical powers, and was immediately appointed Grand Sorcerer in Chief, the king's private magic master. The charlatan bade the king give him a large sack of gold so that he might purchase wands and other magical necessities. He also requested several large rubies to be used in the casting of curative charms and a silver chalice or two for the storing and maturing of potions. _

_All these things the foolish king supplied. _

_The charlatan stowed the treasure safely in his own house and returned to the palace grounds. He did not know that he was being watched by an old woman who lived in a hovel on the edge of the grounds. Her name was Babbity, and she was the washerwoman who kept the palace linen soft, fragrant and white. Peeping from behind her drying sheets, Babbity saw the charlatan snap two twigs from one of the king's trees and disappear into the palace. _

_The charlatan gave one of the twigs to the king and assured him that it was a wand of tremendous power. _

"_It will only work, however," said the charlatan, "when you are worthy of it."_

_Every morning the charlatan and the foolish king walked out into the palace grounds, where they waved their wands and shouted nonsense at the sky. _

_The charlatan was careful to perform more tricks, so that the king remained convinced of the grand sorcerer's skill, and of the power of the wands that had cost so much gold. One morning, as the charlatan and the foolish king were twirling their twigs and hopping in circles and chanting meaningless rhymes, a loud cackling reached the king's ears. Babbity the washerwoman was watching the king and the charlatan from the window of her tiny cottage, and was laughing so hard that she soon sank out of sight, too weak to stand – " _She stopped, hearing raised voices from the kitchen.

"Gabby, she can't stay here! I won't allow it!"

"But Ron, she is scared, she is alone, she is homeless – "

"She _made _herself homeless. Let her go back to her precious Krummy-Wummy if she wants to."

There was a crashing sound as a cupboard door was banged shut. Gabrielle sounded annoyed.

"Ron, what has she done to deserve this? Why are you so... so... so uncaring?"

"Look, Gabby, there are things that went on between us. Things I've tried hard to forget. And her back here... it brings them back. I'm sorry, but she can't stay. She – "

He was cut off by Hermione, who had crept into the kitchen soundlessly, Katerina in her arms.

"Look, Ron, I'll go. It was stupid to come here. I'll – I'll go to a hotel. Don't worry."

She turned away, her eyes tearing up. Gabby was on her in a second.

"_Non_, Hermione, _non_! Ron is just not feeling well today, he is a little grumpy. Stay, stay. We will take care of you." Ron sighed through his nose like a horse. He stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"Ignore him. He is, how you say, stressed. We had to go to the hospital today, and he hates the hospitals."

Hermione looked up in surprise. "Hospital? Why?"

"I am expecting a baby in December. I am pregnant," Gabrielle said cheerfully, gesturing to her stomach. Hermione lurched backwards.

"Er, maybe I should go. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I – "

"No. Come this way, I shall take your bags, you take your children. The bedroom is up the stairs, on the right."

And Hermione followed helplessly as Gabrielle lifted her suitcases like they were no heavier than a couple of feathers, and began to carry them upstairs. She hadn't guessed that Gabrielle was that strong. But she didn't argue. She gathered her children and handbag, and followed her up the stairs.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was chapter 3. I really hope you liked it, I tried to update quickly and make the chapter as good as it could be. If you have any praise, constructive criticism or general comments, please review! **

**I copied the thing about Gabrielle's strength from the character of Petra in the book **_**Jinx **_**by Meg Cabot. I really like her character and I thought I would take a little trait from it **

**Oh, by the way, I made Gabrielle 2 years older than she really is. In the book she is 6 years younger than Ron and Harry and Hermione, but in DFRF she is only 4 years younger. I just thought that six years was a bit of a creepy age difference for Ron, as I always pictured him marrying someone around his own age. So I added two years to Gabby's age.**

**The "Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump" bit is from the actual Beedle the Bard book that my friend lent me for this chapter. So I take no credit for that.**

**And again: please review! Please! With a cherry on top and sprinkles! Unless you are allergic to cherries or sprinkles, in which case have the gluten/wheat/whatever-free substitute... Just please review! :D**


	4. Surprises All Round

**Aaand here is Chapter 4. The chapter that, I admit it, didn't really take me long to write but it took me a long time to start writing. I'm really sorry I took so long with it... But anyway, it's here now. So yeah. I admit as well that it's not very long, either. But in my experience, short chapters are easier to read as well as write. So I really hope you like it! **

**I won't waste any more of your time rambling. **

**Here is Chapter 4 of DFRF!**

* * *

"You want me to take them _out_? Where?"

Ron's incredulous voice sounded from the kitchen. Hermione heard Gabrielle shush him and mutter something unintelligible.

She was upstairs, in the bedroom that was to be hers for the duration of her stay – which, now that she knew about the coming baby and the tense atmosphere between her and Ron, was hopefully not to be a long one.

The room was a comfortable size, like the rest of the house, with cream walls and dark, polished floorboards. The rest of the space was taken up by a wardrobe, a bedside table, and their large suitcases.

Hermione sat on the bed. The boys were playing in the back garden. Katerina was lying in a carrycot in the other spare bedroom – the bedroom that was to be the nursery. Hermione felt it very awkward for her baby to be sleeping there, in the space that was meant for another. But Gabrielle had insisted that it was perfectly fine, so the room stayed occupied.

As if she had heard her thoughts, Gabrielle appeared in the doorway.

"So, Ron has agreed to take you and _les enfants_ into town. Do not worry if he is a bit... annoyed. He did not sleep good last night. I am so sorry, if I could take you I would, but I have to go to work today. Ron is more, how you say – bendy – with his job."

"I think you mean flexible," laughed Hermione. Then her face became serious.

"Ron's part of the Chudley Cannons isn't he?" she asked, although she already knew the answer. Gabrielle nodded.

"He is the goalstopper – I mean, goalkeeper," she said proudly. "But they do not have any games right now, and Ron only does his practising _trois_ days a week. So he is fine to go." She reached out and patted Hermione's shoulder sympathetically. "Do not worry – it will be okay. This will all be okay."

"I hope so..." Hermione's voice trailed off. She got up.

"I should start getting the kids ready, then, shouldn't I?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked round to the suitcases and began to pull clothes out of them. Gabrielle nodded understandingly.

"I shall leave you to it, then," she said softly. She walked out of the room. Hermione could hear voices downstairs again.

* * *

"Ron, please talk to me!"

They were walking down the road towards the nearby Muggle children's zoo – since Muggles were prominent in the area, Apparation was not an option. Ron walked on ahead, face stern, whilst Hermione struggled to keep up.

"Ron! We can't go on like this forever... I – I'm sorry for everything I did, I'm sorry for hurting you. I realise now that you've changed... you're not the person you were ten years ago. But somehow, I don't know what's worse – that person, or the person who won't forgive me now."

He turned around. Glancing at the children, who were playing happily as they walked along, he spoke.

"Hermione, you did more than just 'hurt' me. You broke my heart. I didn't know what to do with myself. And then I found out you were with that – that hook-nosed _bastard_! I knew you would never want someone like me when you could have someone like him. Yet now that he's bored with you, you come crawling back to me, expecting me to let you in with open arms! It's not fair, Hermione – on me, on Gabby, on our family."

His words stung. He turned away, his lips clamped firmly shut. It seemed that that was what he had been waiting to tell her, and now that he had said it, there was nothing more to say.

Hermione looked down at the ground. She glanced back at the boys again, checking that they were not listening. But they were still engrossed in their game.

Once they got to the zoo, Ron brightened up. He still wasn't making eye contact with her, let alone talking to her, but he played happily enough with Andrei and Stefan as they ooohed and aaaahed at the goats and owls and ferrets.

_He looks like their father when he does that_, Hermione thought.

A plump Muggle woman with greying mouse-brown hair and a round face approached them at the capybara enclosure.

"Oh, 'ello, Ronald, love! What a surprise to see you 'ere!" She looked at the boys, who were jostling eachother to get a good view. "'Oo are these little lads then, eh?"

Ron smiled uncomfortably. "They're, er, sons of a guest who's staying with us right now. Um, Hermione, this is Marjorie, Marjorie, this is Hermione."

Marjorie smiled warmly at Hermione. "Lovely to meet you, dear. 'Ow do you know Ronald, then?"

"Er, through school," said Hermione, quickly. Marjorie smiled again. "Very good, very good. School days are always the best. I expect you're wondering how Ronald and I know eachother, eh?"

Smiling, Hermione nodded.

"Well, 'e comes into our corner shop almost every week, don't you, Ronald? And we always see eachother when we're out and about, like now." She put her arm around him. "'E's the son I never 'ad." Marjorie smiled for a third time. "Anyway, I'll see you later, then. Have a good day!"

Ron nodded. "You too, Marge." He glanced at Hermione, who was looking at him with amusement as the woman walked away.

"What? I try to make friends with the Muggles round here... Marjorie's just one of the closer ones," he said grumpily. Then he turned to the boys.

"How about we go into the shop and get you something special?"

The boys squealed with delight and raced in the direction of the shop. Hermione gazed at their retreating backs, and then at Ron, who had a strange look on his face. He looked... wistful. But he didn't meet her gaze again.

* * *

"Gabby, we're back! We're – "

Ron's voice suddenly cut off. They were just entering the house, Andrei and Stefan clutching plush miniatures of their favourite animals – Andrei a monkey, Stefan an owl. Hermione followed behind them. She looked up to see what had stopped Ron.

Gabrielle was standing in the kitchen, looking agitated and worried. And in front of her, in the doorway, stood Viktor Krum.

* * *

**A/N: Woo! The end of the chapter!**

**And I'm really not that experienced in cliffhangers, but is that one? Or not? Tell me in the review section.**

**Hope you enjoyed it! I'll hopefully write more soon because SUMMER IS HERE! WOOOO! So keep a look out for more chapters!**

**Byeeeee**


	5. Arguments Sometimes Help

**Woo! I am on a roll! That's like 2 chapters in a week! Yay me! *claps quickly like London Tipton*. **

**So yeah. Have fun reading it! **

* * *

"I am so sorry, I tried to stop him, but he would not go away!" cried Gabrielle.

Ron stepped forward, blocking Krum's way. "Krum, get out of my house. Now."

"I am here to bring my vife back to vere she belongs, Veasley. Let me past or there vill be consequences," murmured Krum. No matter how softly he spoke, he still sounded menacing. Ron's face darkened.

He took another step towards the hook-nosed man. "Hermione told us what happened," he growled. "And if you know what's best for you, you'll leave. Because Hermione doesn't stay with men who treat her like you did – I should know that. And _you _should know that I'm not exactly your biggest fan either. Krum, just leave."

But instead of relenting, Krum matched Ron's step forward, so that he was nose-to-nose with him.

"If you think I am going to do that, you must be dreaming. Hermione is my vife, and mother to my children. I vill not let her go – Hermione! Come out from behind this idiot – and I do not see why you chose _him _to stay vith. You could haff chosen anyvun, yet you choose him. Anyvay, ve vill discuss that later. Talk to me!" He gestured to Hermione, who was trying incredibly hard to become invisible behind Ron. Andrei and Stefan were looking confused.

"Daddy?" Andrei asked uncertainly. "What's going on?"

He stepped tentatively forward. "Daddy?" he said again.

Krum turned his head to look at his son. "Andrei, my son, it is alright. Mummy and I are going to go back to the house together, _aren't we, dear_?" He said this last part looking pointedly at Hermione.

"Viktor, we can't pretend that none of this ever happened. You said you were sorry for what you did. I trusted you and gave you a second chance. But you threw that chance away before it had even begun! How can I ever trust you again?" Hermione looked up at him with a defiant expression.

"Mummy? Is Daddy bad?" Stefan said softly.

His little face looked worried. He stepped out from behind his mother and looked at his dad. "Daddy? Какво е станало?*" He spoke in Bulgarian, appealing to his father. Krum frowned.

"Stefan! This does not concern you!" he spat. Stefan whimpered, cowering behind Hermione once again. She picked him up and stepped towards Krum.

"Viktor, stop involving the children in this! If you want to get me back, this is _not _the way to go. My children mean more to me than _anything_, and if you ever hurt them again, I will hex your ars" – she glanced at the two boys – "I mean, butt, all the way to Timbuktu!" She kneeled down to Stefan and Andrei.

"Go to the lounge, boys. You can watch some TV. Maybe Gabrielle will make you a snack."

The boys looked up at her, and then toddled off to the living room. Hermione heard the sound of the television being turned up high. She turned to Krum.

"Over the last few weeks, you've proved to me that you're not the caring man I married. I'm sorry, Viktor. But it's over." She gathered herself and pushed past her husband up the stairs.

Ron heard a door slam and then muffled sobs. He glared at Krum, raising his wand.

"Get out. _Get out_!"

Krum looked daunted, yet stayed put. "I-I did not vont this to happen. I vonted – "

"You wanted Hermione to fall into your arms and come home with you. But obviously that isn't going to happen. So get out of my house!"

"But she is my vife! I demand that she come back vith me!" Krum exploded. He waved his wand threateningly, sparks shooting from the end of it. But Ron was quick. He flicked his wand arm and a silvery trail shot from the end of it. It wrapped itself around Krum, bonding his arms to his sides. It forced him to the door. Ron frowned.

"Krum, I didn't want to do this. But if you insist on ruining Hermione's life and ours in the process, I have to. Now go."

Another flick of his arm and the door opened. Krum was practically thrown through the frame and onto the pavement. His bonds were released, and just as he turned around to say something else, the door slammed in his face. Ron waved his wand once more and the lock clicked.

"He won't be able to get through that," he remarked loftily to nobody in particular.

Gabrielle looked shaken. "But he... he could return. I am sorry, _bonbon_, he just arrived... I could do nothing, I – he would not leave." She looked close to tears. Ron put his arm around her and gave her a loving kiss.

"Don't worry, Gabby. It's fine," he murmured.

She snuggled against his chest. "I am so lucky to have a kind,_ mignon_ man like you," she whispered. Then she looked up as a particularly noisy sob escaped the confines of the spare room. "I should go and help her. She is very upset."

Ron smiled. "I'm lucky to have a caring, sensitive wife like you," he said softly.

She smiled back and began to make her way up the stairs.

* * *

Hermione was curled up on her bed, sobbing her heart out. Her face was red and blotchy, her eyes swollen. When Gabrielle entered the room, she hiccupped loudly. She raised her eyes to the beautiful woman in front of her.

"Gabrielle, I'm s-s-so sorry. Viktor should ha-have known better than to b-b-barge in. But how did he find m-me? I've only been away f-for a few d-days! I-I don't know w-w-what to doooooo!" She ended on a desperate wail. Gabrielle sat down on the bed and put her arms around her.

"Oh, _non_, _ma cherie_, _non_! You must not cry; the fault is not yours! Do not worry about it. Men are often _stupide_, they do not think with _la tête_, they think with – " Gabrielle gestured to her crotch. "You must be strong!"

Her words made Hermione chuckle through her tears.

"I sup-suppose so. I'll try and be strong – for the kids and for myself. Right?"

Gabrielle nodded. "Right. So, come downstairs in a while and I will make you some dinner." She patted Hermione's shoulder, got up and left the room.

After about half an hour, Hermione felt it safe to come downstairs. She made little eye contact with Ron, who looked preoccupied anyway. Instead she focused on comforting Andrei and Stefan. She was just cheering them up with their new toys and breathing in the scent of French onion soup, when Ron entered the living room.

"Er... Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"There's a letter from the Ministry here. Krum's been to them – I don't know how he did it in an hour, but... they want you both to come in. Tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N: And another short chapter. I apologise. And another sort-of cliffhanger. Sort of. **

**I really have no idea what's going to happen in the next chapter, so you'll be as surprised as I am when it's finished.****Thank you for all the reviews! Special thanks to my reviewer 'firefly' for reviewing like every chapter! There are many others who have reviewed almost every chapter too, but firefly is special because they reviewed one chapter twice, the second time simply saying 'update'. Which is really funny and also touching. So yeah, thanks to firefly :)**

*** Oh yes. Forgot to add this in at first. Какво е станало is apparently Bulgarian for, simply, 'what has happened' or 'what happened'. **

**Hopefully the next chapter might be out soon, but it might take a bit longer... the Ministry is tough stuff :D**

**Thanks for reviewing!**


	6. New Experiences, Old Friends

**Okay how awesome is this? I write a new chapter in one day! **

**There is one thing I would like to talk to you about. I get loads of hits and visitors, and I thank you for that. I really appreciate you taking the time to read this. But what would be even better is if you would review, to tell me exactly what you think. Because I'm sure some of you know what it feels like to get a review, and it makes me happy to get them. It makes me motivated to write more.**

**So read on, and please review at the end! **

* * *

Since the Battle of Hogwarts, the entrance to the Ministry of Magic had returned to normal. At Ron's request, Harry took time off his Quidditch practice to take Hermione to wherever she was going. They Apparated to London, and made their way over to the old red telephone box that stood on the pavement.

"So, what do they want with me again?" Hermione asked as they entered, peering through a broken pane of glass.

Harry looked up from the piece of paper he held in his hand. "Well, what it says here is a load of technical jargon. Ron's version was that apparently, after Krum's visit yesterday, he's got the gist that you don't want to get back with him. So he's contacted the Ministry and appealed for an immediate divorce. I'm sorry, Hermione. Really, I am."

He reached with difficulty for the receiver, which was trapped behind him. It was a tight squeeze in the phone box. He peered at the dial. "Okay, it's six, two, four, four... and two. Okay."

The familiar female voice sounded coolly from seemingly nowhere at all.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Auror Office, here to escort Hermione Krum, visitor, to her divorce hearing with her husband," said Harry confidently. He smiled encouraging at Hermione, who looked at the ground. This was the first time she had seen Harry in ten years... not exactly the ideal reunion.

"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A badge appeared with a clinking rattle from the slot where return coins normally came out. Hermione took it. It said: _Hermione Krum, Divorce Hearing_ on it. She pinned it to the lapel of her jacket and tried to return Harry's smile.

"Visitor, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium," the cool voice said. Harry looked down at her.

"When did you last come here?" he asked curiously. His black hair was falling over his eyes as he spoke. Hermione shrugged.

"It was when we came here to get the prophecy. When Voldemort was discovered by the Ministry. I haven't been here since." She shrugged again and didn't say another word.

The telephone box floor shuddered, and the box began to sink into the ground at what seemed a snail's pace. Hermione stood awkwardly, pressed against Harry in the confines of the box. After what seemed like a century, the door of the box opened.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," cooed the voice. Hermione and Harry stepped out of it and into the hustle and bustle of the Ministry. Hermione recognised the familiar hall, with its fountain and statues and many fireplaces. As she passed the fountain, she dropped in a silver Sickle.

They got through the security check easily. As they were passing back through the golden gates and into the smaller hall beyond them, a man around their own age approached them.

He had short, sandy hair and deep grey eyes. He was also quite wide in the chest, and his arms bulged with muscle. He waved with one hand, running the other through his hair.

"Hermione? Is that you?" he asked. Harry grumbled under his breath, "I can't deal with this right now."

"Cormac," he greeted the man out loud. Hermione started. Cormac? Cormac McLaggen? But... but she hadn't seen him in years... eleven years! Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts! Did he work at the Ministry?

"Hello, Harry. What's going on? Why is Hermione here?" Cormac asked.

"Look, Cormac, I really don't have time. I have to get Hermione to her hearing," Harry replied tiredly.

"What hearing?"

"I don't think it's anything of your concern. I'm sorry, we have to go. Come on, Hermione." Harry nodded to Cormac, gestured for Hermione to follow him, and hurried in the direction of the lifts. Hermione looked apologetically at Cormac and did as Harry said.

"We're going to Level 10, but we can only go so far as Level 9. Then we have to take the stairs," Harry told her as the lift doors closed. The lift went down one more level before the doors opened.

"Level Nine, Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice that had appeared in the phone box. They got out (nobody got in) and hurried to a flight of stairs on the left. Harry turned to her.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to come in with you. I'm really sorry. This hearing won't last long; they just want to get the divorce done. Krum was very insistent. Then they'll schedule another one to decide possession and so on. I hope it goes well, and Hermione, I know that this whole thing has been a bit strange, but I am so sorry for what's happened."

After going down the stairs, they arrived at a door which said 'Courtroom 5'. Harry gave Hermione a hug. Before he let go, he whispered, "I'm so glad you're back. It wasn't the same without you."

Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. No matter what she told herself, she couldn't hide the fact that she had missed him enormously.

Then he knocked on the door of the courtroom. A short, curly-haired witch opened the door. She smiled at the two of them, glancing at Hermione's name badge.

"Ah, Mrs Krum, you're here. I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to go now." Harry nodded.

"Good luck, Hermione," he murmured. Then he turned to walk back towards the stairs. Hermione stared at his retreating figure, wishing he could come in with her and help her. Soon he had vanished from sight. She turned to the witch.

"I'm ready. Is my husband here?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs Krum. Now, I'll have to take your wand, if you don't mind," said the witch, quite kindly. Hermione obligingly handed over her wand.

"Thank you. If you would come this way, please?"

* * *

**A/N: Bit of an abrupt ending, I know. But if I went on to the next bit it would add another 1000 + words. So yeah. You'll just have to wait for the next chapter!**

**I will admit that I got a lot of the Ministry of Magic stuff from Harry Potter 5: The Order of the Phoenix. But what could I do? I want to keep it similar to the book and I didn't know what else to put. Should I have made the 'cool, female voice' have a convo with Hermione about boy problems? So yeah. Sorry but I think I did okay with that.**

**I am also sorry for making this chapter very short too - but at least it's 1000 words! Woo! Achievement!**

**I hope you liked it, please review and tell me what you think! I'm not saying you have to, but I'd like it if you did. **

**Okay, bye!**


	7. Reality Bites Back

**Okay. I have to say that I am vair vair proud of myself. I wrote this in... 1 day. I think it's because I'm not at school anymore, so my creative-nosity is on full. Or at least that's what I hope. It's either that or I am writing really crap, obvious chapters.**

**I will tell you this now, because I might as well: On the 31st of July, I will be going to Honk Kong. For 10 days. And then for the next 10 days after that, my friend who is coming to Hong Kong with me is staying at my house. She is user 'alicerosemalfoy' on this site, so she writes fanfictions too, but I doubt we will be spending every minute of our spare time writing. Um no.**

**So for about 20 days, I will not publish much, if anything at all. **

**Okay now we've got that out of the way, here's Chapter 7. **

* * *

Hermione was directed into the room. It was quite a large room, but still quite comfortable. The walls were made of stone, but it was a warm colour, and the benches that lined the walls were low and covered in cloth. There were only a few people sitting on these benches. They all looked friendly and kind – but Hermione couldn't be sure. Appearances can be deceiving.

In the centre of the middle bench sat a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She had long, brownish-red hair which she had in a thick plait down her back. Her round face was kind.

"Now that the second party is present, we may begin," she said softly.

The curly-haired witch gestured for Hermione to sit down on a back bench, facing the rest of the benches. She sat down, glanced next to her and saw her husband sitting several feet away from her. A scowl was plastered on his face. He didn't look at her.

The woman spoke again.

"This is a divorce hearing between Hermione Jean Krum and Viktor Krum. Judge Susan Bones residing, Tuesday 29th of June."

So that was where Hermione had seen her! It was Susan Bones, a girl who had been in Hermione's year at Hogwarts. She had changed – now she looked like her aunt, Amelia. Hermione waited for her to speak again.

"Don't worry. This isn't an incredibly serious hearing. It's just a divorce hearing, not a criminal one. But assuming you both agree that you want a divorce, there is a special procedure you have to follow. You will present your case, and the Jury will decide whether or not you are fit to end your marriage. It's very similar to a Muggle divorce, actually." Her voice was soothing, as it had always been ever since Hermione had first seen her when she was eleven.

The Jury were huddled together in a group and talking. After about a minute, they turned to Susan. The one in the middle of the group, a stout young man with dark blonde hair, stood up.

"We will question Mr Krum first," he announced. Susan nodded. The man stepped forward. He got down from the bench and walked into the centre of the room, gesturing for Krum to stand.

"Mr Krum. Why did you come here to request a divorce from your wife?"

Krum frowned. "Because she does not vont to be vith me. She says that I 'cheated' on her vile I vos avay, even though I did not. But she vill not come back to me, and I vill not keep chasing her. I think it is better if ve just separate."

The man nodded. "Hmm, yes, indeed. What impact do you think this will have on your children?"

"I think that the children vill be sad, but they vill still be able to see their father. I think they vud be more sad if ve stayed together and vere alvays arguing – especially if ve vere arguing about things that _did not happen_." The man nodded again.

"And when do you think you decided that you and your wife weren't right for eachother and that you should get a divorce?" he asked. Krum thought about this.

"I think it vos ven our baby girl, Katerina, vos born. Hermione had all these terrible stretch marks – I mean, she vos very tired and vorn out. And ve started to argue a bit more than usual. I think it vos around then. And then all this happened – so I thought that enough vos enough."

"That will be all, Mr Krum. We will now question your wife." Krum sat down looking satisfied. Hermione stood up and looked directly at the blonde-haired man, who gazed coolly at her.

"So, why do you want a divorce from your husband, Mrs Krum? Is what Mr Krum says true? That you accused him of adultery?" Hermione nodded once.

"Yes, Mr – what is your name?" She liked to know who she was speaking to.

The man looked annoyed but answered. "Although that is not relevant, Mrs Krum, you may refer to me as Mr Macmillan. Continue with your answer."

Macmillan? As in Ernie Macmillan? _Small world_, Hermione thought.

Out loud she said, "Yes, Mr Macmillan, I accused my husband of adultery while his team was playing at this year's Quidditch Eurocup. I saw several newspaper articles claiming he had been seen flirting with and kissing a young woman – a model. I contacted him, whereby he apologised and promised to be faithful, but was counteracted straight afterwards when I saw several young women enter his hotel room. It was then that I decided that I couldn't trust him to be faithful to me and a good father to the children. So I left the house to stay with a friend."

Ernie – or Mr Macmillan – looked satisfied. "I see. This is a sensible argument. And Mr Krum, you denied being unfaithful to your wife?" Krum stood, looking outraged.

"Yes, because it _vos not true_!" he shouted. Susan looked alarmed. "Mr Krum, if you continue to shout like that I shall have you escorted out of this courtroom," she said. Ernie turned to Hermione once more.

"And you too think that you and your husband should separate and get a divorce?" he asked.

"I... I... I think that..." Hermione began. She could feel her face draining of colour. "Yes. He isn't a good role model or father to my children. I can never feel trusting of him again. A divorce is the only option."

The Jury were talking in hushed voices; Ernie among them. After a minute, Ernie looked up at Susan. "I think we have our case," he said softly. Then, louder, "Mr and Mrs Krum, the judge and the Jury see it fit that you get a legal divorce. From what we can see, you aggravate eachother, and force eachother down the wrong paths. Adultery is no small thing, Mr Krum. If you will wait one moment, we will get the papers for you to sign."

Susan raised her wand and flicked it. A moment later some pieces of parchment and several quills flew into the room. They landed on her desk.

_That was quick_, though Hermione. _Do they _want_ us to get divorced? _From the satisfied looks on Ernie's and Susan's faces, it certainly seemed it. Susan gestured for Hermione and Krum to come forward.

"If you would sign here, Mrs Krum, and here, Mr Krum," she said softly, pointing to several dotted lines. Hermione took a quill, delicately scratching her signature onto the parchment. It looked incredibly neat next to Krum's messy scrawl.

"I'm sorry to say this, but the two of you are no longer husband and wife." Susan looked down at Hermione sympathetically. "Mrs Krum, if you would like, you could change your surname back to your maiden name." Hermione nodded.

"Yes, please."

"Then sign here and your name will go back to being Ms Hermione Jean Granger," Susan said. There was a short pause. "Hermione, I remember you from school. I'm so sorry for what's happened."

"Excuse me, but I am still vaiting." Krum was looking increasingly annoyed. Susan cleared her throat.

"Ah, yes. We will schedule a possession hearing in two days' time at noon. End of session."

And just like that, Mrs Hermione Jean Krum was no more.

* * *

**A/N: I know that that was a really quick divorce (if only they were like that in real life). But did you really want pages and pages of legal jargon? No, is the answer you were looking for. **

**So yes. The Hermione/Krum relationship is over. I'm pretty sure Krum will turn up again somewhere, so don't worry if you are reading this story simply because you like stories about Krum. Because he is an interesting character and I would be sad to see him go.**

**22/07/10: I edited it so the hearing was on a Tuesday, not a Friday, to fit in with the chapter I'm writing right now. Oh and the date is English, not American :)**

**Those who have their suspicions about Ron/Hermione stuff... wait and see. **

**And with that said... goodbye!**

**-Ellie**


	8. Awkward Moments

**So basically I am having writer's block about what to do. But I can't ask you because that would ruin the whole story. **

**This chapter is just an in-betweener thing to get past the whole divorce thing. After that things will get slightly more interesting. Hopefully :3**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

Hermione got back to Ron's house to find Ron and Gabrielle kissing passionately on the sofa. She cleared her throat in the doorway, and they sprang apart, looking like guilty teenagers. Gabrielle looked mortified.

"Oh, I am so sorry! I... we... how was the hearing?" she asked quickly.

"I – I'm not Mrs Krum anymore," Hermione said softly. She felt a sob welling up in the back of her throat, but tried to keep it down. "I'm not married. The hearing was quick. It was almost... almost as if they _wanted _us to get divorced..." She trailed off. The sob was coming closer and closer to the surface...

"Hermione, please don't cry." Hermione looked up in surprise. Ron had gotten up and come across the room to put his arm around her. It seemed that her current situation had gotten rid of some of his anger towards her.

He suddenly seemed to realise what he had done.

"I mean, err... it'll be alright," he faltered. He removed his arm from her shoulders and stumbled backwards. Gabrielle replaced the space with her own arm.

"_Belle_, cry all the tears you want to cry. This is not something that is over in _une seconde_. If you want to cry, you cry. The children are in the garden. It is okay. I know what it is you are feeling. _Ma cherie_, _tu est triste. Pleurer*****._" She gave Hermione a hug. Hermione turned and hid her face in her shoulder.

She began to cry, quiet tears that trickled down her face. Her voice wasn't so quiet though.

"I – I don't kn-know wha-what to _doooo_!" she cried. "M-my life... it's to-totally changed! My kids – they d-don't h-have a father! And-and I tried t-to be strong but... but it's almost as if he c-couldn't care l-less. And I-I'll probably lose m-my house in two d-days at the po-possession hearing!" She couldn't speak anymore, and instead broke down into even louder sobs. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ron looking uncomfortable.

Gabrielle seemed to notice this too. She took Hermione by the shoulders and looked straight at her.

"Hermione, you must go upstairs and cry all you wish. I will make you some _chocolat-chaud." _She steered Hermione towards the stairs. Hermione nodded gratefully through her tears.

"I'm f-fine now, r-really. It's for the b-best. Thanks, Gabrielle. I-I'll g-go upstairs and clean m-myself up a bit." She walked quickly up the stairs and into her bedroom. Once Gabrielle had come upstairs with the hot chocolate and left again, she collapsed face-down on her bed, and broke out into a really good howl.

* * *

"... and he even gets the kids two weekends a month! So not only do I lose the house, half my furniture, and quite a bit of my money, but now I let him influence my children 4 days a month as well!"

It was the day of the possession hearing, and Hermione had just arrived home. Unluckily for him, Ron was the only person who was home, and was being subjected to complaint after tearful complaint.

They were sitting in the living room on the sofa. Ron was trying to watch television, but Hermione was making that very difficult.

"I hoped it would never be like this. I knew it would be hard, but I really hoped it wouldn't be this hard! I knew I would be happy that he was finally out of my life, though. But it's so hard to make sense of it all!"

_God, I just want to watch the telly, _thought Ron. _She's just rambling on and on about her divorce from a guy I hate... She should have thought about this before she went out with him. She should have thought about this before she dumped me._

"It just feels like my heart's been torn apart!"

_But she does look so cute when she's like this_, thought Ron. _Like the way her nose wrinkles, and – no. No. _

"...was this the way you felt when... when I broke up with you?"

He was jerked from his thoughts. "Erm... yeah. I suppose so."

"I'm sorry for what I did, Ron. Truly, I am. I see now that I was wrong. You've changed. You're a caring, considerate person. I should never have done what I did. I am so, so sorr – "

She broke off, looking confused. Ron had drifted off again, and was gazing at her with a strange expression on his face. She waved her hands in front of his eyes.

"Um, Ron? Hello? I'm trying to apologise!"

His eyes widened. "Oh! Yeah, sorry. I was... thinking."

"Well, anyway, I just want you to know, I'm really sorry about what I did. I hope we can go back to being friends again. You know? The _Golden Trio_?" She laughed softly.

"Um, yeah. Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you going to live now, then?"

"Well. Viktor is obligated to give me a certain amount of money every month, so I might get enough money to buy or rent a house eventually. I think that maybe next week I'll start looking. Is it... is it okay if I stay here for another couple of weeks or so?"

"Er... yeah. It's fine, don't worry. Um, Hermione, I'm gonna go and practice my saves in the garden. Do you... want to help?"

"Yeah, that'd be fun! Let's go."

They made their way outside. The garden was quite big – it was the width of the house and ran quite a long way down a gently sloping hill. At the end of it were the familiar three hoops that were, essentially, the main apparatus of Ron's job.

"Hang on. I've got to go and get my gear on," he said. "Oh, and Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I forgive you."

* * *

**A/N: Woo! So Won-Won forgave her! Woopdidoo! **

***Okay. **Ma cherie, tu est triste. Pleurer, **is essentially French for: **My darling, you're sad. Have a cry. **Correct me if you are French and object to this translation. Same principle to Bulgarians. Online translators only know so much - although, most of the French bits I know since I am taking French for GCSE next year. Anyway, enough of my life :)**

**Please review and tell me what you would like to come in future chapters - I have a basic plot which I will stick to, but there are a lot of grey areas sub-plot-wise. So yeah. Tell me what you want to read.**

**I'll update soon, hopefully. I have said that the last 4 chapters, and I have published the last 4 chapters over the last 4 days. Maybe saying 'I'll update soon hopefully' is good luck :D**

**Okay, bit of trivia here: I am checking out Hong Kong (my holiday destination) on Google Earth, like the beaches and the airport and so on. And did you know that Hong Kong International Airport is on its own island? Yes. It is. So it's like *green island *green island* *green island* *GREY ISLAND*. Because it's just airport. Just a bit of general knowledge there.**

**Byeee!**


	9. Of Ponies and Action Figures

**Hey! Okay, so I had two reviews asking to hear more about Harry and Ginny and other characters. Well today I felt like bringing Fleur and Bill into it, and I know it's not Harry or Ginny, but I liked writing this chapter :) I thought it was pretty funny to write.**

**I hope you like it, because I try to please my readers. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"_Fleur! Bonjour, ça va?" _

It was Saturday, and Fleur and Bill had arrived for a visit. Gabrielle was ecstatic – gabbling away in rapid French and rushing around with cups of tea. Hermione noted from the top of the stairs that Bill looked exactly the same as when she had last seen him. Despite his being thirty-eight, his hair was pulled back in the same long ponytail, and his scars from his battle with Fenrir Greyback remained on his face.

His hand was held tightly by a small, blonde girl of around six or seven.

"Daddy, I wanna go _home_!" she whined. Bill grinned sheepishly. "Hey, Ron," he greeted his brother, then, "Not now, Victoire. Daddy wants to see his brother. How about you go and ask Aunt Gabrielle for – oh, hey, Hermione. What... what are you doing here?"

His face was surprised as he noticed Hermione hiding at the top of the stairs, unsure whether or not she should come down.

Ron stepped in. "Didn't I tell you?" Bill shook his head. His brother looked surprised. "Oh. Come here for a second." He took him by the shoulder and into a corner, talking quietly. Every so often, Bill would glance at Hermione and then back at Ron. After a while, he spoke, still quietly, although Hermione could catch a phrase now and again.

"But she dumped... doesn't deserve... her fault... she shouldn't..."

But Ron was firm. He spoke quieter than his brother, and Hermione couldn't hear what he said. By the end of the discussion, Bill had come around. He didn't speak to her, but he smiled at her a few times. Hermione busied herself with the children.

"Hey, Gabrielle, how about Victoire plays with my sons? After all, she'll only be bored otherwise," she suggested. Gabrielle nodded enthusiastically.

"_Mais oui, _Hermione. That is a good idea. You can go and fetch _les enfants _and I will tell Fleur."

Fleur had not yet spoken to Hermione either; although she had acknowledged her once or twice. Hermione guessed that she felt the same way as Bill, but was coming round to the idea that Hermione was not, in fact, a heartless bitch.

She went upstairs to where Andrei and Stefan were sitting on the bed – Stefan was reading a book, and Andrei was playing a complicated game with his army figures on the duvet. As she entered the room one of the figures shouted at her, "Atteeeention! Name and rank!"

Hermione sighed. She wished she had never bought those stupid things.

"Boys, Ron's niece is here. She's looking for something to do, so I suggested that you keep her company. How about that?"

"Eew!" complained Andrei. "Girls have cooties, everyone knows that!" His brother sighed.

"Girls don't have cooties; they're the same as us. Right, Mummy?"

"Right, Stefan. So Andrei, I expect you to be nice to her and behave well. We'll go downstairs now and maybe you can play in the garden."

"Fiiine," Andrei grumbled, slipping off the bed. He paused. "Can I take my action figures?" He clasped them to his chest. They grumbled as they were pressed together, their voices muffled by his T-shirt. Hermione nodded.

"Yes, you can."

"Woo!" he cried. Stefan put down his book and got off the bed. He toddled round to his mother and brother. "Let's go," he said simply, before ambling out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

"So, Ron, we hear you've got a kid on the way! Finally, eh?"

They were sitting on the small patio, at the outdoor table, taking advantage of the summer sunshine. The children were sitting on the grass in the middle of the garden – well, two were sitting on the grass. Victoire was sitting on a blanket to avoid getting grass stains on her pristine outfit.

Ron nodded and put his arm around Gabrielle. "Yeah, she's almost three months in."

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?" asked Bill.

"Nah, we want to keep it a surprise."

"Yeah, that's what we did with Dominique," Bill said. He gestured to where Fleur was cradling a blonde toddler. He smiled adoringly at her.

Hermione drifted off – she didn't like all this talk of families and babies. She focused instead on the children.

"You wanna play armies with me?" Andrei was asking Victoire. She shook her head.

"_Maman _says it's not right for girls to be rough and play games like armies. I wanna play ponies!" she stated adamantly. She turned to Stefan.

"Will you be my pony?" He nodded. "Get on your arms and legs on the ground like a pony. Then I'll get on your back." He did as she asked, but shifted when she tried to get on and she slipped. "Be careful! I don't want to get my clothes dirty!"

Eventually she was on his back. "What's your name gonna be?" she pondered. "I know! You can be Trotty! Trotty, go over there!" She pointed to the patio table. Hermione grinned as he heaved his arms and legs up, trying to crawl to the table. He was only three, after all, and a seven-year-old girl is quite heavy to a three-year-old.

The others were still talking, but they stopped when they saw Stefan crawling towards them, Victoire on his back. Bill grinned. "You got your own ride there, Vicky?"

Once they had reached the patio, Victoire hopped off. "I like Stefan," she declared. "We're going to get married."

Stefan blushed. He didn't say anything; he just stood beside Victoire as she put her arm around him.

"Are you, now?" Fleur asked. "Do you not think that Stefan is a little _jeune_ for you?"

"Yeah, Vicky. He's only three, and you're seven," added Bill, and Hermione could hear clearly the amusement in his voice. Victoire pouted.

"But _Maman, _Daddy, he's my pony! And I like him! Can we take him home?"

The adults all laughed, and the two children went back to the middle of the garden, Victoire grumbling, Stefan blushing furiously. Bill turned to Hermione, and, probably because of this newfound common ground, talked to her.

"Ah, the things kids get up to, eh?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I know. How old is Dominique?"

"She's just over eighteen months."

They talked for the next hour, until Fleur said that it would be best if they got going. Victoire had to be dragged away from Stefan, who had kept up his job as 'Trotty'.

"Bye-bye, Stefan! Come see me, then we can get married!" she cried. Bill turned to Hermione as they left.

"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry for not giving you a chance at first. I do admit that my brother was a right prat when he was younger. Now that I think about it, I don't blame you for dumping him." He grinned and glanced at Ron, who was saying goodbye to Fleur with a kiss on the cheek.

"That's alright," she said, smiling too.

After they left, Hermione mentally ticked off another member of the Weasley family who had forgiven her. Only about a thousand - well, six - more to go.

* * *

**A/N: Well, I know that wasn't Harry or Ginny, but did you like it? Hopefully you did :D**

**I'm also currently working on the sequel to _Tom's Heartbreak, _which is called _Tom's Transition_. So you can check that out too, if you want. **

**Okay some lovely French translations!**

Bonjour, ca va? **is Hello, how are you?**

Jeune **is young**

Maman **is a French word for Mum**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Ten Years Too Late

**Chapter 10 took a little longer**** to write, and involved me staying up until half past one in the morning (i.e. now) writing it. But now it's finished and will be the first part of a few chapters about this certain milestone in the story. **

**I hope you like it, because for once, I do. **

**Read on!**

* * *

"Hey, Hermione? Guess what?" Ron asked as she came down the stairs the following morning.

"What is it?"

"I got an owl. Hogwarts is having its ten-year reunion for 1999's 7th years. The thing is, we're allowed to come too, because, well... our 7th year wasn't the best, was it? You know how some people in our year went back the year after to retake 7th year? Well, all the people in our year – even the ones who didn't do the extra year – are permitted to come too."

She looked a bit nervous as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Erm... that's really cool and everything, but... Ron, I haven't spoken to some of our old classmates for almost ten years. What will they say when I just turn up?"

He handed her a cup up tea.

"Look, Hermione... I know things have been a bit... weird between us and everything. But I know that if things can go back to normal between us, then they'll probably be able to go back to normal with the others, too." He stepped forward, seemingly wanting to put his arm around her, then suddenly stepped back.

"Er... yeah. It'll be, um, fine," he said eventually, after a long pause.

"Thanks, Ron. Thanks." She smiled at him, sipping her tea. "So when is this reunion?"

"It's in two days – why they picked a Tuesday to hold it, I don't know. Maybe they want to give us a day off work," he answered, grinning. "We'll have to ask Gabby to take care of the kids."

"Won't she want to come with you?"

"Oh... well, she might. She, erm, yeah... I'll have a talk to her about it."

"Well, it's fine if she wants to come, I mean, I can easily take the kids myself."

Their stimulating conversation was interrupted by a wail from the nursery. Hermione gratefully took a step back. She gestured up the stairs.

"Er, Ron, we'll have to discuss this later. Katerina... she needs feeding, and... yeah." She hurried back up the stairs, almost spilling her tea.

She sat on the bed in her room, cradling Katerina.

"Oh, my little baby. It's going to be hard; I know that. But we'll make it through, I promise." She plucked the bottle from the baby's mouth and stroked her soft, downy head. Katerina gurgled back.

After putting her back in the cot, and making sure that Andrei and Stefan were still soundly asleep, Hermione went back downstairs. Gabrielle and Ron were sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. They looked up as she came in. Gabrielle turned to her.

"Oh, Hermione, I do not mind looking after the children while you and Ron go to this... how you say? Re-onion?"

Ron laughed. "It's re_union_, Gabby."

"Aha, yes, what my husband said. But, as I was saying, I do not mind – truly. I did not go to your school, _non_? So it would be _ennuyeux pour moi*****_. Go."

Hermione smiled gratefully. "Oh, thank you, Gabrielle!" She leaned down to give her a hug. "I really appreciate it." Gabrielle smiled back.

"Go and have fun, _ma cherie_._" _

* * *

"Wow. I haven't been here in ten years," Hermione said dreamily as they walked through the grounds. They had Apparated to King's Cross Station, and, to their delight, taken the Hogwart's Express from Platform 9 ¾. Now they were heading up to the Entrance Hall.

"Same here. It's so weird... I'd forgotten some things about Hogwarts but I remembered them as soon as I got here," Ron replied.

The Great Hall was fully decked out for the former students. The ceiling was bewitched, as normal, but it was bewitched to look like a lake or pond, which rippled and reflected everything below. As Hermione entered, she noticed several people staring at her. She looked down at herself to make sure she looked alright – she was wearing a blue summer dress and white ballet pumps. No, there was nothing wrong with her outfit. Ignoring the stares, she walked to a table and sat down.

Ron had disappeared to get a drink from one of the other many tables that were scattered around the room. There was a stage at one end of the Great Hall, where a band was just setting up. A sign above the stage proclaimed them to be 'The Hippogriffs'.

Someone sat down next to her.

"Hey, stranger," said Harry, grinning. He flicked his fringe out of his eyes. "I heard you and Ron aren't as awkward as you were before. You two made up?"

"Um, yeah."

"Good. I never really got mad at you in the first place... I mean, I don't really blame you that much. Ron _can _be a prat, I admit it," Harry laughed.

"Who's calling me a prat?" Ron asked, sitting down. He grinned as he saw Harry. "Hey, Scarface. Where's Cho?" He handed Hermione a drink, taking a glug from his own. Harry gestured behind him to where a group of women stood.

"She's catching up with some of her old mates. Oh yeah, Hermione, you don't know about Cho, do you?" Hermione shook her head. "She's 'Ask Charlene' in the Daily Prophet. Never knew she'd go into the Agony Aunt business when I married her, but you know, things don't always turn out like you thought."

He grinned again. At that moment, Cho herself detached herself from her group of giggling cronies and came to sit down. She looked beautiful as ever – her shiny black hair was chin-length and sleek, and her brown almond-shaped eyes were outlined with black kohl. She smiled when she saw Ron, but her smile turned to confusion when she saw Hermione.

"Um, hi, Hermione! I haven't seen you since... well, since the Battle of Hogwarts! It's good to see you! I heard about your split from Krum, though... working on the Daily Prophet means I hear about things quite quickly. I'm so sorry."

Well, that didn't make things awkward at all. Hermione looked down at the table. "Yeah, I'm fine now. He was a pig anyway." There was a pause. "So, Cho, how did you and Harry get together? I don't know any of this."

Cho smiled. "Well, Harry and I met up about a couple of years after the Battle of Hogwarts. He had just split from Ginny and I... well, I was ready to love someone. And it just kind of... happened." She paused to put her arms round Harry and give him a kiss. "Now we live in London in a loft. It's good fun."

"Do you have any kids?"

They both laughed. "Oh, God, no!" Cho chuckled. "Not now, anyway. We like to focus on our jobs. Hey, Harry, shall I get us a drink?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." She got up and went to the drinks table. Harry leaned forward.

"Isn't she great?" he asked eagerly. "I was so lucky to meet up with her when I did... Ron, no offence or anything, we've been through this before, but... well, I just kind of realised that Ginny wasn't the girl for me. And then Cho came along, and now we're happy as can be."

Ron grinned. "None taken, mate."

As if she knew they had mentioned her, Hermione saw Ginny suddenly appear in the Great Hall, closely followed by Dean, who was pushing a pushchair. She noticed Harry and Ron... and then, she saw Hermione. Luckily, she didn't have time to come over, because suddenly McGonagall's voice sounded from the stage.

* * *

**A/N: I know that it's a bit of an abrupt ending, but I didn't want to make a huge long chapter. So instead, I've created a sort-of cliffy, and kept the chapters short. **

**I hope you liked it! Review please, tell me what you want to see in the next chapter!**

*****Ennuyeux pour moi **is French for 'boring for me'. And I'm guessing you know by now what the other stuff means :)**

**Bye for now!**


	11. Dry Nuns?

**Hi again! **

**I don't really have anything to say, so I'll just let you read the story :)**

* * *

"Welcome, everyone, to this 10 year reunion! I am pleased to welcome, not only 1999's 7th years, but also 1999's _8__th _years as well. This is a first for the school, and we are happy to include you all in today's event."

McGonagall paused for a moment before continuing. "Today is a day for relaxing, for mingling and for having a good time. The school, as you know, has broken up for the summer, so if you would like, you can go and have a wander round. Refreshments are on several tables, and we are happy to include _The Hippogriffs _as they are playing for us today. Now, with that said, I shall end this by saying to you all... Welcome back, and have fun!"

Everybody clapped loudly as she got down from the stage. Behind her, The Hippogriffs began to play.

"Well, if it isn't Hermione Granger," came a voice from behind Hermione.

She turned – it was Ginny. "Um, hi, Ginny," she replied nervously. "How are y –"

Ginny cut her off. "Why are you here with my brother?" She was looking from Ron to Hermione, and back at Ron. "Why is she here with you? Why is she here _at all_?"

Looking behind her, Hermione saw Dean standing awkwardly to one side. He was still gripping the handle of the pushchair, in which two small children sat side by side. He glanced at his wife, then down at his feet, then at Hermione, who smiled at him. He grinned back at her.

Ron and Ginny were still talking. "Ginny, have you heard about Krum? What he did?"

"Yes, but I didn't expect her to come to _you_!"

"Look, it's fine. I've forgiven her."

"She hurt you! You were _engaged_!"

"Ginny, you're pregnant. This is the hormones talking."

Eventually, Ginny went to sit with Dean at another table. Ron turned to Hermione. "Sorry about that. She... she didn't take it well when you broke up with me. And now, what with her being pregnant and everything... it really doesn't help."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's fine." She bobbed her head to the music, just as Cho came back to the table. Harry, who had been sitting awkwardly in his seat while the fight progressed, visibly relaxed.

"I got us some drinks!" Cho chirped. She handed one to Harry. Just then, the seat next to Hermione was scraped back, and a bulky man with a receding hairline plonked his large bottom onto it. He turned to her.

"Hermione! How're ye?" he asked, in an Irish accent. It took Hermione a few seconds to realise that the balding man beside her was, in fact, Seamus Finnigan.

"Seamus! Hi!" she replied. "I'm fine, what about you? What have you been up to?"

"Ah, well, I've been up to a lot. I'm married, I'll have ye know. Lavender and I have been married five years now. She's over there, gettin' us some drinks."

He gestured to where Lavender Brown – or, in fact, Finnigan – was coming over, holding two glasses. Her blonde was thin and limp, and she looked a bit thinner than she had ten years ago. "Hey, sweetie, here's your Guinness," she piped up.

"Cheers, Lav, me mouth's as dry as a nun's crack." Hermione blanched. She looked at Seamus to see if he had noticed what he'd just said. But no, he carried on as normal. She glanced at Ron and Harry, who were in silent stitches. Lavender smiled at Hermione kindly.

"Hi, Hermione. How are you?"

Hermione didn't have time to respond, because Seamus had raised his glass and begun to speak.

"A toast! To Hermione. As you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way!" He clinked his glass against his wife's. "Cheers!" He gave a loud belch.

"Um. Thanks, Seamus," Hermione said. She sat in silence for a moment, before grabbing Ron's arm. "Hey, Ron, I love this song. How about we go and dance?" She pulled him out of his seat and into the middle of the room, where a few couples were dancing. Harry and Cho followed.

They began to dance opposite eachother. Hermione tried to avoid Ginny's dirty looks from across the room.

"You didn't do that just to get away from Mr Mad Irish Bloke, did you?" Ron grinned at her.

"Uh... no, of course not. I really enjoyed smelling his alcohol-breath and hearing dirty Irish similes," she replied.

They danced in silence for a while. Harry and Cho were across from them, gazing into each other's eyes and sneaking a little kiss every time their heads came close. Hermione glanced back at the table to check if Seamus and Lavender were still there. They weren't – it seemed that they had come onto the dance floor too.

"Alright, folks, let's slow it down a little," came a voice from the stage.

Slow, twinkly music washed over them. The singer started crooning a cheesy love song into the microphone. Hermione stepped back.

"Maybe I should get back to the table," she said apologetically to Ron. She hurried quickly back to the table and gathered up her things, making sure they were all still there. Ron came after her.

"Hey... Harry and Cho are busy. How about we go for a stroll around the school?" he suggested.

She considered this.

"Okay. I'd like to see it all again, I guess." She picked up her bag. "Let's go."

* * *

They walked up the Entrance Hall stairs and, after many corridors and stairs, found themselves on the seventh floor, in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The portrait of the Fat Lady was still there. As they approached, she burbled, "Ooh, old Gryffindors, here for the reunion, I see. Come through, dears." And she swung open to reveal the common room beyond.

It was just as Hermione remembered – the fireplace, the tables, the soft, squashy armchairs and the two staircases. Ron sat himself down in one of the armchairs.

"Wow. It's just like I remembered it. Do you remember there, when Neville turned into a canary? And over there's where Harry opened his golden egg and nearly shattered the windows with the noise it made." He grinned, remembering.

"I don't know how I ever forgot anything about this place," Hermione said dreamily. She sat down too.

They sat for a moment, before getting up and wandering around the common room and dormitories. Ron found that he still couldn't get into the girl's dormitories – when he tried to climb the stairs, the alarm sounded and the stairs turned into the normal stone slide.

"Let's go into the grounds," he suggested, after a third failed attempt. So they made their way out of the common room, down the many stairs and corridors and into the grounds.

It was summer, and although it was past six in the evening, the sky was still light and the air was musky. They wandered along a path through some trees. They stopped at a line of trees. Ron spoke.

"Remember... remember when we came down here... for the last time. At the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. And we knew... we knew we wouldn't be coming back." His voice was low and husky. "And we stood right here. I didn't know how much I'd miss it til now. I wish things would go back to... to the way they used to be."

He leaned down. Hermione didn't realise what he was doing until the last minute, but by then it was too late.

* * *

**A/N: I'm pretty sure you can all guess what he was doing *wink wink nudge nudge* but you'll have to wait until next time to find out what happens! **

**There's not much to say about this chapter, really.**

**I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I will try and update soon.**

**Bye!**


	12. Attraction is a Mysterious Thing

**Ooooh and the plot thickens 0_o **

**I hope you like this chapter, I actually enjoyed writing it! **

**Go ahead and read :)**

* * *

*** It was summer, and although it was past six in the evening, the sky was still light and the air was musky. They wandered along a path through some trees. They stopped at a line of trees. Ron spoke.

"Remember... remember when we came down here... for the last time. At the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. And we knew... we knew we wouldn't be coming back." His voice was low and husky. "And we stood right here. I didn't know how much I'd miss it til now. I wish things would go back to... to the way they used to be."

He leaned down. Hermione didn't realise what he was doing until the last minute, but by then it was too late.***

He pressed his mouth against hers, moving his hands so that they were lodged in her hair. Hermione let out a squeak of surprise and indignation. She tried to move away, but he held fast. As he kissed her, she could feel her willingness to fight it slipping away very quickly.

Without really realising, she reached up, running her hands through his hair and kissing him back fiercely. She couldn't help it; her old instincts were kicking in. Her brain seemed to have gone into Autopilot.

He pushed her back against a tree and wrapped his arms round her waist. Hermione felt dizzy as he kissed her. She let out a moan as the kiss intensified.

Ron's blood was rushing in his veins; his lips seemed to have a mind of their own as they searched hers out. His hands had moved to caress her face, and he leaned closer so that there was no space between them, they were one person, just like it had been before... before...

_Gabrielle_.

_Oh God, what am I doing?_

He wrenched himself away from Hermione, who looked surprised.

"Look, Hermione, I have to go. I mean... I... I have to go. I'll see you back home."

He backed away, eyes wide. Suddenly he turned and dashed back the way they had come. His figure was soon invisible as it blended amongst the trees. She was left, leaning against the tree, her lipstick smeared, her clothes rumpled and her hair messy. Looking in her bag, she pulled out a hand mirror and her wand. Checking her appearance, she muttered a quick spell. Her lipstick was immediately back in its right place, and her hair was immaculate. There was nothing she could do about her clothes. She blinked a few times to stop tears welling up in her eyes.

"Well. That's that, then," she mumbled to herself, trying not to burst into sobs as she pushed herself away from the tree. She began to walk back along the path, back to the main doors.

As she was coming back into the Entrance Hall, a voice startled her.

"Hermione! What a surprise to see you! I... are you okay?" It was Neville. He had just come down the main stairs. He looked exactly as he had looked ten years ago. His face hadn't quite lost all of its baby fat, and he was in a jumper and jeans. He looked worried at the sight of Hermione, who, on the way back, hadn't quite managed to keep all of her tears in.

"You look a bit... strange. What's wrong?" Neville asked, sounding concerned. He came over and stood in front of her.

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm fine, I'm fine... I just went for a walk and tripped up, that's all." She looked at him, willing him not to ask anything else.

Neville obviously wasn't fooled. He looked at her for a few seconds, taking in her rumpled clothing and teary face. "Ah, okay. I... I hope you feel better soon. See you inside." And with a smile, he hurried off through the doors of the Great Hall. Hermione breathed out.

She waited a moment before going the way Neville had and going into the Great Hall.

The Hippogriffs were playing some sort of fast-paced song, but Hermione wasn't in the mood for dancing. She noticed her coat was hanging on the edge of a chair, and grabbed it. She couldn't stay here for much longer. Catching sight of Ginny, she smiled nervously. Ginny, who was dancing with Dean, looked back at her. She didn't smile, but her look was not a mean one.

Hermione knew she couldn't stay here anymore. She headed for the doors.

As she neared them, someone appeared out of nowhere.

"Hey, Hermione! How's your night been so far?"

It was Cormac McLaggen. He was standing at the door, smiling. He moved towards her as she tried to go through the doors.

"Um, Cormac, I'd love to stay and chat, but I really have to go," she said, trying to manoeuvre herself past him.

He stepped forward. "Why does this seem to happen every time we meet? If you must, then go."

"Thanks, Cormac."

And, with a quick nod in his direction, she hurried out of the doors, and into the Entrance Hall. Once she was out of the main doors and in the cool, evening air, she breathed out. What was going to happen once she got home? What had Ron said?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

* * *

**A/N: So, Ron got his mind back in the end! But... how awkward will it be when Hermione gets home? Answer: very awkward.**

**Review, pleasey, please please!**

**Thanks :) I'll try and update soon.**

**Byee!**


	13. The Head or the Heart?

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! **

****

Hope you like this one!

* * *

Hermione arrived home later that evening to find the house dark except for two lights; one in Gabby and Ron's bedroom, and one in the lounge. Quietly, she opened the door, shutting it so it wouldn't bang. She went into the lounge.

Sat in an armchair was Ron. His eyes were glazed and he held in his hand an almost empty bottle of something that looked suspiciously like firewhisky. There were only a few drops left in the bottom. At his feet there was another bottle, this one empty. It rolled around at his feet.

"Ron, I... what have you done?"

He tipped the bottle back, letting the last few drops dribble into his mouth.

"Whooo shtole all 'o my f-firewhishky?" he asked, looking confused. He shook the bottle over the ground. "Did you shee who draank it?"

He tried to stand up, but his knees buckled before he could take a step, and he sank back onto the chair. "Hermy? Did y-you shteal – "

Stepping forward, Hermione kicked the empty bottle across the floor.

"Ron, you're quite astoundingly sloshed. I know you won't remember this when you wake up tomorrow, so... _Stupify_!" She muttered the last bit, raising her wand. Ron's head fell back and his mouth flopped open. His limbs relaxed and he became still. A line of drool began to trickle down his chin.

"Well. That's him taken care of, at any rate," she said to herself.

She began to walk back towards the stairs. As she put her foot on the first step, a loud snore erupted from the lounge.

* * *

"So... you had fun last night?" Gabrielle asked carefully as she poured coffee the next morning.

Hermione, who was sitting on a barstool with Stefan on her lap, glanced at the lounge door, behind which Ron still lay comatose. "It was... an interesting night," she said at last. "I met up with some old friends, and Ron saw Ginny."

"Ah, Ginevra. She has, how you say, a bad temper – _specialement _now she is going to have a baby," sighed Gabrielle. "She has the dislike for me. She says that I am like my sister in all ways." Hermione nodded.

"And Ron... he had a bit too much to drink, _non_?" Gabrielle laughed. "I think he might be in the lounge, but I do not want to look. Maybe he will wake soon."Again, Hermione nodded. She smiled at Gabrielle, suddenly feeling guilty for all she had done last night.

"Er, speaking of the lounge, I'm just going to check in there for Stefan's toy. I'll be back in a minute," she said evasively. Hopping off the stool, and placing Stefan on the floor, she hurried through the lounge door, shutting it behind her. There he was. Sprawled across the armchair, arms hanging down the sides, legs stretching across the floor. He was still snoring, though more quietly now.

"Oh, _God_. Why, oh why, did I get myself into this?" she muttered. She stood in front of him, wand in front of her. "_Finite Incantatem_," she said quietly.

Ron's eyes, which had been half-closed, immediately snapped open. He gazed blearily at his surroundings.

"Oh, my _head_," he groaned, reaching up his hands to massage his temples. "It feels like I've been stunned or something.."

"Well, let me assure you, that didn't happen," Hermione said nervously. Ron looked up. His previously glazed eyes widened.

"Er, Hermione. Hi."

"Hi."

"Bloody hell, I got kissed – I mean, pissed! Pissed. That's what I meant to say. I got really pissed last night."

"Yes, you certainly were. Pissed, that is."

At that moment Gabrielle entered the room. "Ron, you are awake! You drank a bit much _hier soir_*****, did you not?" She looked at Ron, who looked back at her. She glanced at Hermione, then at Ron, then back at Hermione again. Hermione could tell she knew something was up.

"We were just discussing how drunk he got, weren't we, Ron?" she said brightly.

Ron nodded from his slumped position. "Yeah. Morning, Gabby."

She came over to kiss his face. "_Merde_! You smell! You must go and shower yourself before the neighbours come and shout." She gave him a hug. "Go on. Go and clean yourself." Ron heaved himself from his chair, groaning as he got up.

"The room... it's spinning..."

Gabrielle held his shoulders as she propelled him out of the room and up the stairs.

* * *

"I don't know what to do; it felt so good kissing him, but... well Gabrielle's so nice and I don't want to hurt her. I don't know what to go with: my head or my heart."

Katerina gurgled back at her.

"Well I can see you're going to be no help whatsoever," Hermione grumbled. She picked her up from the bed and carried her to the nursery, setting her down in her cot. As she tucked the blanket over the now sleeping baby, she heard a screech from her room. She checked that the noise had not woken Katerina before going to see what it was.

An owl sat on the windowsill of her open window. It was large and covered in dark feathers. It had darker feathers above its amber eyes, like eyebrows. It was Krum's owl. And it had a letter tied to its leg.

Hermione quickly untied the letter and unfolded it. The parchment was Krum's personal stationery; creamy in colour and embossed at the top with his name and a picture of a Snitch. The letter read:

_Hermione_

_I know that we are now officially divorced. But somehow I can't help missing you. I think about you every day and every night before I go to sleep. _

_Maybe we can start afresh. I think that we could become a happy family again if we start from the beginning. Maybe we can try again? I know in my heart that you will always be the girl who was meant for me. You are part of my soul and I can't just let you go. _

_Meet me at our house tomorrow evening. I will show you that I can go back to being the man I once was. _

_Yours always_

_Viktor_

**A/N: Ooooh... and the bug crawls back :o**

*** **hier soir **is last night or last evening**

**I tried to make this chapter a bit funny, tell me in the review section whether I accomplished that or not!**

**AND only 4 days until Thursday, when I stop writing! I go to Ireland on Thursday, which is where my friend lives, and then we fly from there on Saturday :D**

**Woo!**

**Review... please. Please. Please. Please. Thank you very very much.**


	14. Eat Your Soup!

**Hey you guys!**

**First things first, I just want to thank you guys for all the reviews I've been getting. I really appreciate it :)**

**Secondly, this is the last chapter I'll be publishing for a while. Because I go to Ireland tomorrow.**

**Now, read on!**

* * *

"Oh, God. He did not do what I think he did."

She held the letter at arm's length, as if it would burn her.

"Well, Viktor, I don't buy it. If you want to get me back, you're either going to have to do something _much _better than an owl, or get a brain transplant," she muttered to herself. She crumpled up the letter in her fist. "Because I have better things to do than pander to you whenever you call."

She put the letter in her pocket and went downstairs. Stefan and Andrei were playing in the lounge, and Ron – fresh from a shower, though still looking slightly zombie-like – was standing in the kitchen making coffee. Gabrielle was leaning against a unit, sipping a glass of fizzy water.

"Hey, you two," Hermione said cheerfully as she sat down on a barstool. "I was thinking we should go out tomorrow night. You guys got a pub near you?"

* * *

"I can't believe you dragged me here, Gabby," Ron grumbled as they walked through the door of 'The Duck and Dog', the local Muggle pub.

The kids were in the care of Marjorie, Ron's Muggle friend. Ron had, at first, refused to come, but with a little persuasion from Gabrielle he had agreed to come.

"It will be good for you, will it not, Hermione?" Gabrielle grinned. They sat down at an old wooden table near the window. Hermione hung her coat on the back of her chair. As she sat down, she felt the crumpled letter make a crunch in her back pocket. Damn. She'd forgotten to take it out.

They sat for about ten minutes. An awkward silence seemed to cover the table like a blanket. Hermione and Ron wouldn't look at one another, and Gabrielle kept trying to keep the conversation going, though it eventually fell flat and wouldn't get back up.

The silence was broken when a tall Muggle man came over. "Er, there's a woman at the bar who asked me to tell you that 'you should watch out for Nargles'. I'm sorry, I don't know what she means, but – "

The three of them glanced at one another. Gabrielle looked baffled, but Ron and Hermione were grinning. At the same time, they looked over at the bar. There, sitting on a barstool, radish earrings swinging from underneath her dirty blonde hair, was Luna Lovegood. She saw them looking over at her and smiled. Tugging on the arm of a tall, bearded man beside her, she came to join them at their table.

"Luna! Bloody hell, what are you doing here?" Ron asked, astounded.

"Rolf and I come into this pub whenever we pass through," Luna answered serenely. "We're in this area right now, looking for the rare Janglebug. Rolf is a magizoologist , you know – a wizarding naturalist, like me. He studies magical creatures."

"Wow, that's so amazing!" Hermione said. "Are you two married, then?"

"Yes, we are. We married a year ago," Luna replied.

Hermione smiled. "Ah, how sweet." She stood up. "I'm going to get a drink – anybody want one?" This was followed a chorus of 'beer for me's and 'yes please's.

Hurrying up to the bar, she ordered the drinks. As she waited, a cute Muggle guy with dark brown hair and arm muscles like oranges caught her eye and grinned. Hermione blushed as she took the drinks and took them back to the table.

"What are you blushing about, Hermione?" Luna asked, subtle as ever. This made Hermione blush even more.

"I, er... it's a little hot in here, that's all."

Gabrielle needed to be introduced to Luna, who she had never met before and was slightly alarmed by. But she soon warmed up to her. They sat and chatted for a while.

"So, have you got any interesting news?" Hermione asked Luna.

Luna smiled tranquilly. "I've been noticing that there are less Wrackspurts around me than usual. Rolf and I both agree that I must be pregnant."

She put her hands on her belly. "They repel the Wrackspurts, babies do."

Holding back a smile, Hermione noticed Gabrielle looking nervously at Luna, then at Ron. Gabrielle obviously wasn't used to Luna's less-than-normal outlook on the world. All the same, she smiled prettily and said, "Oh, congratulations!"

"Thank you. I can tell you're pregnant, too," replied Luna. "There are no Wrackspurts around you at all. Congratulations! Ron and Hermione have got so many; their brains must be feeling really fuzzy by now."

Gabrielle smiled, looking decidedly bewildered.

"How have you been?" Luna asked.

"Well," Ron said quickly, glancing at Hermione, "Gabby and I got married a few years ago, and we're still deeply in love. Now that we're expecting a baby, I think we'll love eachother even more, right, darling?" He put his arm around her and gave her a kiss. She snuggled into him, giggling.

"And I," Hermione interjected, "married Viktor Krum, but he and I have recently divorced."

"Yeah, it's a pity that things like that often happen, isn't it?" Ron said. "Gabby and I are lucky we're so happy together."

Hermione grumbled inwardly. Ron was back to being a prat again – this was the very reason she had broken up with him. She had to get the better of him. "You stopped me before I could finish!" she said quickly. "I was going to say that although we have recently divorced, we're going to try again." And she pulled the letter from her back pocket.

Luna, Rolf and Gabrielle were watching the exchange with confused eyes.

They looked at Hermione as she pulled out the letter.

"Yes, he asked if I could give him a second chance," she told them, fixing her eyes on Ron as she spoke. "He says it all right in this letter."

Ron looked completely out of his depth. His arm, which was still around Gabrielle, went slack. "But... but he came to our house... he said he didn't want to... what?"

On the other side of the table, Luna smiled serenely. "I think it's good that he asked for a second chance. You should do it, Hermione." Rolf nodded, his arm around his wife. Even Gabrielle – or especially Gabrielle, depending on how you looked at it – nodded and smiled. Ron was the only one whose face looked like he had just been told that Harry and Draco were getting married.

"In fact, he's asked me to go to his place tonight. So I'm sorry, but I think I'll be going now," Hermione said, standing up. As she stood, Ron grabbed the letter from her hand.

He quickly skimmed the lines of text before looking up at her.

"Oh _God_, you can't seriously believe this tosser, can you? He won't take care of you, he's a complete ars – " He stopped, looking at the confused faces around him. "I mean... what I meant to say was... um... you should be careful. Yeah."

"Thank you, Ronald, I shall remember that," Hermione said dryly as she grabbed her coat.

She said goodbye to Luna and Rolf, before walking at a leisurely pace out of the pub. She made sure that the letter was dangling from her fingers in full view as she walked out.

* * *

"Hermione! You came!"

Krum was standing in the open door of the house, looking pleased. "I vos vundering vether or not you vud."

She smiled. "Well, something came up and I thought I should give you a chance to redeem yourself. You seemed sincere enough in your letter." She walked past him and into the familiar hallway. Krum shut the door behind her. He walked in front of her, leading her into the dining room.

"I made us dinner," he said.

The dining room was lit by candles. In the centre of the room, a small table stood. There was a chair on either side of it and a vase filled with roses in the middle. Steaming bowls of Bulgarian soup sat on it, and beside them, plates of hot Bulgarian pasties.

Hermione sighed. It was so sappily romantic she could almost feel herself melting like the wax on the candles.

"Sit down," Krum said, pulling back her chair for her. He sat down in his own. He reached to the middle of the table, where a bottle of wine stood. "Have some." He waved his wand and the cork popped out of the top. The bottle floated over to Hermione's glass and tipped itself until the red liquid gushed into it.

Hermione took her glass when it had finished pouring and sipped it. "So, Viktor, why did you invite me here tonight? What do you like about me so much that you want to marry me all over again?" She leaned one elbow on the table and gazed at him coolly.

He looked back at her. "Eat your soup, it vill get cold."

_Well, this is going to be a long night_, she thought. All the same, she dipped her spoon into her soup.

"Okay, Viktor. I'm eating my soup. Now, answer my question."

He paused, soup spoon halfway to his mouth. "Vell, I haff realised that you are the girl I vont to be vith. And I cannot do that if ve are divorced, can I?" He smiled seductively at her. Hermione looked down at her soup.

They sat and ate for a while, talking about this and that – news on the children, the Eurocup, things like that. Once they had finished dinner, Krum waved his wand and their plates floated off to the kitchen. Krum smiled again, leaning forward.

"You know, ve haff the house to ourselves. Let's skip dessert..."

Hermione jerked as she felt his hand on her thigh. "Viktor, whatever you're doing, stop it."

But he persisted. His hand crept up her leg like a crab, scuttling further and further. She slapped it away. "Do that one more time, and I'm leaving."

"Vy? I vont to show you how much I loff you," Krum said.

"Well, you can do it without that," she snapped back.

The rest of the evening was slightly tense and Hermione didn't enjoy it. Krum was nice and everything, but sometimes there was a hand on her leg, or her arm, or even her chest, and she would immediately stiffen up. Did Krum want her back because he loved her... or because of something else?

* * *

**A/N: My friend just said something really funny: Viktor Krum is the Tiger Woods of the Quidditch world. How very true.**

**So, what does Krum want? You decide...**

**And what's going to happen between Ron and Hermione? You'll have to wait and see, I guess. **

**Bye!**


	15. WAG House Rules

**Ello ello ello. **

**Sorry I haven't updated in ages, as I said I went to Hong Kong (it was awesome, by the way) and now I'm back in England! Cold, boring England! Woopdidoo!**

**So yeah. Here's Chapter 15.**

* * *

When she woke the next morning, Hermione felt somehow dirty. Like her skin was covered in invisible grime, that you can feel but cannot see or touch.

She sat up and brushed the hair out of her face, remembering the previous night.

"Oh, I don't know what to do!" she whined softly, turning her head to the window. The morning sun was streaming through a wide gap in the curtains. Andrei and Stefan, who usually slept in the bed with her, were long gone, downstairs already.

Hermione shuddered as she remembered Krum's pawing of her last night – her skin crawled where he had touched her. Why had he done it? Why had he asked her back when thousands of girls would gladly come to him? Did he simply want someone there all the time, a wife he could run from but would always be there when he got back?

The biggest question of all was: what was she going to do about all of this? She lay back on her pillow and ran through her options in her mind. They were as follows:

Go back to Viktor, be cheated on frequently and only get any attention when he wanted her in bed or when he was out of love with someone else. Although she would have a nice house and rather a lot of money in the process.

Stay with Ron and Gabrielle. Obviously not going to happen, at least for long.

Stay with them for a few weeks or months more, then get somewhere else to live. This way she would avoid awkward confrontation with Ron and could keep him and Gabrielle (and others from Hogwarts) as friends.

Stay with someone else.

Panic.

None of the options stood out as particularly inspiring. Option 3 seemed the most appealing, although rather difficult to achieve.

She sighed. Having listed her remaining options, her brain was too tired to figure out which one to go with. She decided to leave it for now, and decide later.

She went into the nursery to feed Katerina and to take her mind off things. The baby was still asleep when she came in, but Hermione picked her up gently anyway. She waved her wand.

"Accio baby bottle and milk!"

Soon Katerina was fed and back in her cot, alternately gurgling and sucking her feet. She paused in her endeavour to beam up at her mother in the way that only babies do. She reached out her arms, so Hermione picked her up once more and gave her a cuddle. The baby was still restless afterwards, so Hermione lifted her into the playpen that had recently been erected. Soon Katerina was busy playing with a squeaky frog toy. Hermione left her there, grinning at the simplicity of pleasing a baby.

As she neared the bottom of the stairs for what seemed like the millionth time since she'd arrived, Ron came into her line of vision. He had just come out of the kitchen and into the hall. He glared at her as she reached the bottom step.

"How was your _date _last night?" he sniffed.

Hermione couldn't understand him. Last night, he was parading his wife and the love they shared around, and this morning he was treating her like a criminal for seeing Viktor! What was wrong with him?

The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"It was brilliant, actually," she said haughtily. "He was very nice. I really think he means well. In fact... in fact, I found it difficult coming back here!"

_Well, that was a downright lie, wasn't it Hermione? _she thought to herself. She didn't know why she'd said it. It wasn't as if she really had anything to prove to Ron. It was just that he angered her so! Since their kiss he had morphed back into the silly little 18-year-old boy he'd been when they broke up! She wished she could take back her words. But they were out now, and she couldn't do anything to stop them.

Ron's face was reddening.

"Well, then," he said stiffly. "If you liked it so much, maybe you should have stayed there!"

And he hurried to the front door, stepped through it, and slammed it shut behind him.

#####

"Ron?"

Harry opened the door to find a very red-faced Ron standing there. Not that his red face was surprising – what vexed him was that Ron hadn't simply Apparated into the apartment as he did all the time, much to Cho's exasperation.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, holding the door open for him. Ron stepped in silently. He walked into the living room, which the front door opened onto. It was a spacious room, with dark wood flooring and a leather sofa, on which Cho was reclining. Harry shut the door behind his friend and looked quizzically at him. He didn't say anything, but simply waited for Ron to speak.

Cho was writing something on a long piece of parchment. She didn't look up.

A long pause ensued.

Eventually, Ron moved from his standing position by the sofa. Slowly he leaned down and picked up a cushion. Then, suddenly, with no warning, he hurled it with all his might across the room. It hit a picture frame standing on a small table, which fell to the floor. The glass smashed across the wooden floor, and Harry heard Cho audibly sigh.

"I can't _believe _her!" Ron bellowed. He picked up another cushion. "I can't" – he threw it at the window – "_fucking_" – he picked up another – "_believe her_!" The third cushion hit Cho in the head. She turned her head towards him, and if looks could kill, he would have been dead before he even realised what hit him. Harry gave her a warning look.

"That _bitch_!" Ron was still shouting. "She thinks she can bloody go back to that bloody wanker, just like that! After all he did to her; after all she did to me!" He reached down for another cushion. Realising that he'd already thrown them all, he grabbed the coffee table with both hands and lifted it clear off the ground. Teacups, glasses and coasters went everywhere, the liquid within them spilling out onto the floor. A white vase of black flowers smashed loudly. The table itself was flung to the floor and, with a crash, broke apart. This was too much for Cho.

"Ronald!" she cried, standing from her sitting position on the sofa. Harry immediately sank into the cushions to take her place.

Cho took a step towards Ron, who was still fuming. "Ronald Billius Weasley! It's a bad enough thing doing this sort of thing in your own house, but in _my flat _it is totally _out of bounds_! Now, you may be Harry's best mate, but unless you _stop doing that_" – she pointed to where Ron was flexing his fingers around an unbroken mug – "I will have to kick you out. What's your plan of action?"

She waited several seconds for Ron to answer. He said nothing.

She was about to say something else, when Ron seemed to snap. He threw back his arm and tossed the mug at the floor, where it shattered. Cho's chest heaved.

"That's _it_, Ron! Out! Come back when you've grown up!" She pushed him towards the door. He hesitated.

"Out, Ron."

Eventually, he opened the door. He nodded to Harry. "See you later, mate." Then he was gone. Harry turned to his girlfriend, a half-annoyed, half-amused expression on his face.

"Did you _really_ have to do that?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the short-nosity of this chapter. **

**Suggestions for chapters? Stuff you wanna see? **

**Review pleassseee :)**


	16. A Lads' Night Out

**Ellooooo! Turns out that I can still write fanfiction even when my friend's here, mainly because she brought her laptop too so we can just write at the same time. Yes I admit we are sad. But that is life.**

**Have a good... um... readey-type thingy.**

**Ta-da!**

* * *

He was halfway back down the quiet London street, not really knowing where he should go now, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Ron! Wait up, mate!"

After a short while he had caught up, his messy black fringe flopping over his eyes. Ron smiled.

"Cho kicked you out too, did she?" he asked, laughing. Harry shook his head.

"Nah, I just thought we could hit the pub," he replied. "Cho's working on her column anyway. Don't worry, Seamus will be there, so it won't be boring." He grinned at his friend. "And then you can moan about Hermione _all _you want."

The pub was a small building a few streets away from Harry's flat.

As they went in, Harry muttered, "It's a wizarding pub. When Muggles look at it they see a shop that's been shut down." Ron nodded. Then suddenly he spotted the familiar balding, bulky figure of Seamus Finnegan sitting on a barstool, his substantial bottom spilling over the sides. When he noticed the two men standing in the doorway, he waved a pudgy hand.

"Harry! Ron! Come on over here!"

The two friends joined Seamus at the bar, sitting on the dark wood barstools. Harry called to the bartender, "Two pints of bitter!" Seamus burped softly before jumping in with, "And a fire whiskey for me!" Their drinks arrived, the bartender looking doubtfully at Seamus, who was decidedly red-faced already. Harry and Ron downed theirs in seconds.

Swallowing the last drop and slamming his glass down on the bar, Harry turned to his friend.

"So... what's the deal with Hermione?" he asked. "I thought you guys had sorted yourselves out."

There was a pause. Ron answered carefully. "Well... there was a... bump in the road. She's, er... yeah."

Another pause. Harry looked at him. "Because I know exactly what that means. Ron" – he leaned across the bar, signalling for two more drinks – "I have no idea what you're bloody talking about." He slurped at his drink, passing the other one to Ron. "Drink up. You'll need it."

Ron was just letting the last drop trickle into his mouth when he felt someone slide onto the barstool beside him. He turned to see a blonde man of around his own age, his hand closed around a glass of fire whiskey, his expression exhausted. Cormac McLaggen? Ron's forehead wrinkled, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. He looked at the arrogant man in front of him – he didn't look so arrogant now. Ron could see that he was looking slightly more humble, more broken than he had ten years ago.

"McLaggen?" he asked, swivelling his head to look at him. The anger that had coursed through his had been slowly ebbing away, but now that this man's face had entered his line of vision, it started to trickle back, drop by drop, as it always did when he came face to face with someone like McLaggen. Cormac looked at him. Ron saw recognition register in his eyes.

"Weasley." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. His voice was tired. Ron could see that his eyes were tired, too.

As he watched, Cormac signalled to the bartender. "A shot of Goblin's Brew over here, mate," he called to him. The bartender nodded. Goblin's Brew was a mixture of the strongest drinks, both in the Muggle and the Wizarding World. Needless to say, fire whiskey was a key part of the drink. Ron hadn't had one for years – the last time he had, it was when Hermione had broken up with him. He leaned over to the tired-looking man beside him. But before he even had a chance to say anything, Cormac spoke.

"Not now, Weasley. I'm really, really not in the mood." He put his chin in his hand, heaving a huge sigh. His drink arrived in front of him. Ron could swear it was smoking.

Even so, Cormac grabbed the shot glass and downed it, shuddering as it slipped down his throat. He slammed the glass down on the bar.

"What's, er... what's the matter?" Ron asked, slightly hesitantly. Cormac didn't look to be in the best condition for a verbal thrashing tonight. In fact, he looked more like he needed a cuddle and a bedtime story. He turned to Ron.

"Weasley, I don't think that right now is the time for you and me to become best mates. So why should I tell you?"

A pause. Ron said, "Look. You'll be too hungover to remember this conversation tomorrow. It's all a case of 'You show me yours, I'll show you mine'. You tell me about your shit life, and then you have to listen to me going on about mine." He gestured to the bartender. "Another two Goblin's Brews over here, mate." He glanced over at Harry, who was talking to Seamus. "In fact... make that three."

***Two Hours Later***

"'Arry?"

"Yess Ron?"

"You're my besst frind. My besst frind."

Ron put his arm around Harry, just as slow music started to pour out of some invisible speaker or something. They both looked ecstatic and began swaying in time, their arms still around each other's shoulders. Cormac started dancing. On the table.

"Woo!" he yelled. "F-fuck you, Romiilda! I'm a ffree maaan now! Ssso there!" He promptly fell off the table, landing in a puddle of spilt liquor.

Harry and Ron looked at eachother. There was a moment's pause. Then they both burst into maniacal laughter, holding onto eachother to keep from falling as Cormac had.

The bar was empty except for a few old men nursing Butterbeers. The lights had been dimmed, the music was slower and softer, and all of the drunken young men had stumbled back down the streets to their houses or to Apparate away. Except, of course, Ron, Harry, Seamus and Cormac. Seamus was passed out on the floor, and Cormac was on the floor as well, although whether he was passed or not, Harry and Ron were too drunk to tell. They were wrapped up in their own affairs.

"I loove you, m-mate," Harry was slurring. "You're alwayss th-there, you g-gingerr git."

Ron seemed to be crying as he said, "I-I love you toooo, 'Arry. Isss amazin' 'ow much I l-looove you."

What happened next would be regretted by both men the next morning.

Cormac woke from a temporary drunken stupor to see his two old school friends making out on a table.

"Y-you guyss?"

No response.

Only the music pouring out from its mystery source. And the occasional, "I looove you," from Harry or Ron.

Cormac let out a giggle. He just had time to see the flash of a camera and hear the clamour of several voices entering the pub before he passed out once more.

* * *

**A/N: Um. Yeah.**

**Well, what else could I do? It was my friend's idea actually to have Ron and Harry make out. Because it's funny. If you think about it, it is. Deal with it.**

**My friend, by the way, is user **alicerosemalfoy **on this site. I know I've already told you that but still. So, if you haven't already, go check her out because her writing is awesome. **

**Aaaand that's it.**

**Hopefully, I'll get Chapter 17 up soon. **

**Happy reading!**


	17. Just Charming

**Okay, before you beat me up, I know that this chapter is very short. **

**I know.**

**I know.**

**But I had no idea what else to write. I kind of felt that this length of chapter was okay for this particular chapter. Very very sorry all the same.**

**Now read on!**

* * *

**Harry Potter: Coming Out of the Closet?**

"_The hero of the Wizarding World was seen late last night at a Wizarding pub in east London. This would have been normal for the bespectacled Quidditch star – save for one detail. He was not chatting and laughing to his long-time best friend, Chudley Cannons Keeper Ron Weasley, but kissing him. _

_The two friends were apparently spending a lad's night out with Hogwarts pals Seamus Finnigan and Cormac McLaggen, and were, according to a reliable source, 'having a pretty good time'. But after taking in copious amounts of alcohol, the casual meeting turned into a drunken disaster._

_Paparazzi arrived in time to see the two 'Golden Trio' members, as a witness put it, 'making out'."_

Beneath the bold lettering was a picture. Of Harry. With his mouth smashed against Ron's. The picture moved, as usual, but all it showed was Harry and Ron sucking face. Over and over again. Oh dear. Trying not to giggle, Hermione went on to the next line. She had read almost the whole article – which was on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ – before a name in the article suddenly registered in her head.

Cormac McLaggen. Where had _he _suddenly appeared from?

No. She shook her head. Cormac was her ex, an arrogant idiot who thought the world revolved around him. He wasn't exactly number one on her list of top priorities. What _was _on that list was this newspaper and the words it contained. The words that were saying Harry was... well, not straight.

She turned her attention to the rest of the article. It finished with:

"_So was Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's kiss simply a drunken mishap, or a secret feeling waiting to be set free? _

_Whatever it was, let's hope he lets us know soon."_

Ah.

He wasn't gay. She could be sure of that. Whatever had happened last night, Harry wasn't gay. He had always fancied girls – Ginny, Cho... Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that he had even fancied _her _at some point during fifth year. But no. He was _not gay._

Her philosophical thoughts were interrupted by voices from the hall.

"Yeah, like I said, we've already got a guest in the spare room, but you can sleep on the sofa," Ron was saying. Hermione heard a door slam and what sounded like a suitcase rolling on the wooden hall floor. She stood from the sofa, accidentally knocking over Stefan's complicated brick tower. He didn't say anything, just glared up at her. Hermione laughed at his expression.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean to!" She kneeled down and encased his small frame in her arms. As she was swinging him from side to side, Stefan squealing with laughter, the living room door opened with a slight creak. Ron entered, his head turned over his shoulder. He was talking as he stepped into the room.

"This is the living room. I don't think anyone's h – "

He stopped. His gaze had landed on Hermione, still cradling a giggling Stefan.

Stepping further into the room, he revealed a figure standing directly behind him.

Hermione looked up into the face of Cormac McLaggen.

**A Few Hours Earlier**

"Ron, please?"

"Can't someone else do it?"

"No. I've contacted everyone I know – nobody has room or will take me."

"What about your parents?"

"They're dead, Weasley."

"Oh."

A pause.

"Look. Romilda's staying in the flat. I have absolutely nowhere else to go. Come on. I'll sleep on the sofa. I'll buy my own food. But I don't have enough money to stay at a pub – that's why I need you to say yes."

"You know we've got another guest here already?"

"That's alright."

Another pause.

A sigh.

"_Fine_."

His face hadn't changed. His jaw was still chiselled, his hair the same shade – although its wiry texture had been smoothed out until it had become a desert of sandy blonde. And his eyes – they were the same, a slight tint of grey surrounded by an ocean of blue. The muscle that seemed to have been piled onto his body had lessened slightly, so that now he was a vaguely normal size.

The one thing that had changed entirely was his expression. No longer was it arrogant, judgemental, one that made Cormac look as if he had a bad smell under his nose. No. Now it was curious, but at the same time the type of expression that Hermione saw all the time on Gabrielle – a sort of inward smile.

"Er... hi, Cormac," she stammered. It wasn't so much that she was attracted to him. The thing that was making her so unsure was that, well... he'd just turned up. Just like that. Unexpectedly. She hadn't seen him in ten years – who could blame her for freaking out just a little bit?

She plopped Stefan back onto the floor, and straightened up, holding out her hand.

"Hello," he replied, stepping out from behind Ron. He shook her hand firmly. "It's good to see you again."

She didn't know what to say to that. Saying, "Oh yes, it is," would be a lie. Because seeing Cormac again had not only reignited her dislike for him, but also disconcerted and disorientated her.

So all she said was, "Mmm." Which was not a lie.

Ron seemed to sense the silence growing deeper between them like a chasm. He turned to Cormac.

"Err, how about I show you the kitchen?" he asked. Cormac nodded, and Ron immediately walked out of the room and into the hallway, leaning against the doorframe. He waited for Cormac to go past, and as he shut the door again, he mouthed, _I just saved your arse_.

_Charming_, Hermione thought. _Just charming_.

* * *

**A/N: Woo! Cormac has come to stay! **

**What do you think will happen? **

**What did you think of the chapter?**

**Tell-eth me in the review section. And you shall receive a virtual cupcake. I know how much you all love cupcakes :)**

**Chapter 18 will be up as soon as I can get it up. Sadly I am being dragged off to Blackpool this week, so the chances of it being up within a week are slim. But within two weeks I can do.**

**Byee!**


	18. The Perfect Houseguest

**Helloo! I'm back! **

**Well, this chapter isn't the most amazing of chapters, I'll admit it. But it has its high spots.**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Cormac McLaggen was not what Hermione would call a perfect houseguest. He was, to say the least, irritating – he was lazy at times when he was needed, and wanting to go out or do something when everyone else wanted to relax; he made comments that he obviously didn't realise were offensive. That was the difference. He wasn't intentionally rude or malicious; instead his ignorant remarks were what offended people. In the short time he had been here he had called pregnant people 'hormonal, grumpy idiots' in the presence of Gabrielle, who was making his dinner at the time, and, while complaining about Romilda, had said, "Thank God I didn't have kids with the woman. They ruin your marriage _and_ your life." He had then turned to Hermione, who was sitting, steaming, and said, "What do you think, Hermione?"

All in all, he enraged her.

His arrogance had gone; but his stupidity definitely hadn't shifted.

When Hermione came down the next morning, cradling the baby in her arms, he was still asleep on the sofa. He was lying on his back, mouth open; arms and legs sprawled in every direction. As she passed through the lounge into the kitchen a snore erupted from his cave-like mouth. She shut the door as loudly as she could without making it look suspicious.

Gabrielle was pottering about the kitchen making toast. The boys were sitting at the small, rarely-used table in a corner of the room; plates of egg and soldiers sat in front of them. When Hermione entered the sunlit room Gabrielle smiled at her.

"Good morning!" she trilled, passing a steaming cup of tea over the bar. "Does Cormac still sleep?" This last remark was accompanied by a roll of her eyes and a slightly exasperated tone to her voice.

"Yeah," Hermione replied, setting Katerina down into her baby chair next to Stefan.

She sat down on a barstool and grasped her mug with both hands. "Where's Ron?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"'E is at work," Gabrielle replied tiredly. "I am left to help with _that man_."

Once more she rolled her eyes in the direction of the living room. As she turned her attention back to the toast she was buttering, the door opened with a creak and a shirtless figure in tracksuit bottoms and sporting messy hair shambled into the room. Cormac looked with bleary eyes at Gabrielle and the boys.

His gaze fell on Hermione. "Morning," he muttered, still staring at her. She dropped her eyes to the floor.

"Morning, Cormac," she mumbled. Gabrielle passed her a plate of toast.

As if sensing her death-glare, which was pointed directly at him, Cormac turned to Gabrielle. "Here let me help, Gabby." He stepped forward and took hold of a pan on the stove, immediately tipping its contents (fried eggs) onto the counter and the floor. They landed with a messy _splat_.

"Oh, sorry!" he cried. "I'll clean it up." He pointed his wand at the mess and muttered, "_Scourgify_." Hermione saw that Gabrielle was gritting her teeth in an effort not to wack him round the head with the frying pan.

"And then, right, she tells me I'm not right for her. Not right! For her! And that we should break up. Seriously, I'm actually being serious here. She said that I wasn't right for her. I mean, who even _says _that?"

This had been going on for half an hour. Hermione was just about to start pounding her head against the door in boredom when the doorbell rang. She immediately leapt up, stopping Cormac mid-sentence.

"Er, Cormac, just hold that thought," she said quickly, hurrying into the hall and wrenching open the door before Gabrielle – who was in her office – could even start going down the stairs. Harry stood on the doorstep, his hair, as always, messy and his eyes the usual piercing green. He held up a newspaper, one whose front page was also plastered with several pictures of his... _escapade _with Ron several nights ago. He looked at Hermione.

"You'd think they'd have given up on this story by now," he sighed. "And Cho and I... we had a bit of an argument. About the whole thing. She got a bit, erm... angry. Is Ron here?" he added, stepping through the door and shutting it behind him. Hermione looked at him concernedly.

"No, he's at work," she replied. Then, "Do you think Cho will calm down by tonight?"

Harry sighed. "Maybe."

He pushed open the door to the living room and sank onto the sofa. Since she'd met him, Hermione had only seen that look on his face two or three times. It was his 'I-feel-like-giving-up' look. She was about to sit down next to him, when she remembered that they were not the only people in the room. Looking up, her eyes met Cormac's. His expression was a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Hermione decided to ignore him.

"Harry, I'm sure that it'll be fine. Cho's angry about that whole article, and what you did, but she'll calm down. Go back tonight with some flowers and chocolates and it'll be fine," she said. She was about to put her arm around him, but decided against it. Instead, she stood up and turned to Cormac.

"Hey, Cormac, would you make some tea?" she asked. He grumbled off toward the kitchen. Hermione turned to the black-haired man on the sofa.

He looked sadder than ever. His eyes were downcast and his whole frame sagged, as if Lockheart had tried once more to mend his bones but had, yet again, succeeded in removing them. The newspaper he had been holding had dropped to the floor. As if on cue, he dropped his chin into his hands. Hermione sighed.

"Harry, it's not that bad! It's an article in a newspaper, don't let it get to you so!"

She knew she shouldn't really be saying that, considering what had happened to her over the past couple of months, but Harry seemed different. He wasn't the type to let words bring him down. Well – at least that was what she had assumed. It seemed that her thoughts were being contradicted by this slumped sad figure before her.

He looked up at her. "Hermione, it's not just about the article. I came here about that too, yeah, but... well, there's something else. The reason why Cho and I fought is because... well... because Cho's pregnant."

* * *

**A/N: Well. Harry's gonna be a daddy. Or not. Who knows :)**

**I am disappointed in my reviewers! I only got 1 review on the last chapter, which is sad-making... thank you to Kasseraandra for reviewing, by the way... Reviews make me happy :D So please, pwetty pwease review and you may be the winner of an e-hug and an e-cookie. And an e-iPod. Woo!**

**Again: what do you think I should put in the next chapter? What did you think of this one? **

**As a funny side note, what do you think of the '' advert? Because me and my sister have been singing it ALL day. And we found a website where you can learn the dance to it and everything. We couldn't do the dance because we are crap. But maybe you can. Seriously - all day it has been "We buy any car!" "Dot com!" **

**I will update as soon as I can, but with school coming up in a week (aarrg GCSEs make my brain hurt) I may not have much time. Keep on reading anyway!**

**Ellie**


	19. Tension

**Hey, you guys! **

**First thing before you start reading. So, so sorry I didn't update sooner. I go to boarding school and come home at weekends, and this site is blocked on their computers. I didn't come home last weekend.**

**That's my explanation :) **

**Now... enjoy, I guess!

* * *

**

Harry's confession was like a hand that then drew a blanket of silence over the room. It tucked the corners in around their chins, so it took a while for Hermione to drag herself out from under it and open her mouth again.

"Er... what's the argument about then?" she asked tentatively.

Harry looked at her. "Well, I suppose it's not really that big of a deal, but... well, I want to keep the baby and Cho doesn't. And since she's the one _carrying _the damn thing there's not a bloody thing I can do to stop her."

He paused, and then started again. "She got a bit angry – saying stuff like, 'well a baby isn't going to help drag this relationship out of the mud is it', and, 'having a baby wasn't exactly a blessing for your parents now was it'. Just stuff like that." He glanced up at Hermione's shocked face. "No, no, she isn't normally like that, she was just angry. And then she said she needed a few hours to think, so I came here. I actually wanted to talk to Ron. I didn't think that he might be training."

"But she can't say things like that!" Hermione burst out. "She's supposed to support you!"

Harry looked down at his feet. "Look," he mumbled, "she's not always like this. She's... she's the best thing in my life right now, and I love her. It's just that she doesn't want to have a baby with me."

He looked so downcast that Hermione gave him a hug. "Harry, if you love Cho, then you have to decide what's more important: a baby, or her? And if you want a baby more than you want Cho, then maybe Cho isn't the most important thing in your life right now."

But Harry just kept looking down at his feet. "But I want a baby _with _her," he said softly, lifting his head and brushing back his hair. "I want both. I can't leave her."

He stood up. "Thanks for all your help, Hermione, but I'll be back when Ron's here, alright?"

And, with Cormac staring after him, he grabbed the newspaper that had been left on the sofa, and walked out of the room. There was a pause, in which the front door opened, and then it slammed shut. Cormac turned to Hermione.

"Well, that was productive, eh?"

* * *

When Ron arrived home that evening, he seemed grumpy.

It was only about five minutes later when Harry turned up again. He came through the door, whispering urgently to Ron, who nodded tiredly. They disappeared into the kitchen. A while later they reappeared. Hermione heard Ron say, "Go for it, mate. She won't be able to resist." But before she had time to ask what they had been saying, she heard a crack as Harry Apparated out of the hallway. Ron shuffled into the living room and collapsed onto a sofa. Hermione followed him into the room, holding a sleeping Katerina in one arm and a squirming Andrei in the other.

"Mummy, put me down!" he whined.

Hermione leaned down and he immediately jumped out of her arms and ran towards Stefan, who was playing contentedly by the door, knocking over the tower of bricks he had been constructing. The wailing that ensued could have smashed windows. Katerina woke up and started shrieking too. Ron sighed.

"Sorry, Hermione, can you shut your kids up please?" he groaned, switching on the Muggle television his father had given him. Hermione nodded, hushing the baby in her arms, who quietened.

"Stefan! Andrei!" she hissed. "Shush!"

"But he knocked down my tower!" cried Stefan.

"I'll help you build a new one, but for now I think the right thing to do would be to _go upstairs_."

"But _Mummy – _"

"Go."

Grumbling, the children gathered their toys and mooched out of the room. Andrei gave Stefan a little push as they went out. Ron sighed.

"Thanks, 'Mione." He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the Muggle news.

There were a few seconds of blissful calm and silence, save for the burbling of the television, before the living room door opened with that creaky noise that doors often open with, the noise that, when you are alone in the house and hear it, makes you think that you are going to die. Cormac walked into the room. His blonde hair had been gelled back with a gel that smelt faintly of raspberries, and he was wearing incredibly tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination. In fact, Hermione noticed, they weren't jeans – they were leather trousers. He grinned at Hermione. Ron gave a little grunt of irritation.

"Heeey, Hermione." Cormac adjusted the belt on his jeans and unbuttoned his shirt a little, so that his chest hair was visible (well, what little there was of it). "I'm going out – you wanna come?"

Hermione gave him a withering stare. "Cormac, I would rather tame a Hippogriff than go out with _you_."

For a millisecond, Hermione thought she saw hurt flash across Cormac's face. But this was immediately replaced by laughter and raised eyebrows. "Okay," he said, almost chuckling, "fine. There are loads of women where I'm going, and all of them want a piece of the McLaggen pie." He ran a hand down his tight trousers. "See you later, then." He was just about to leave the room, when he turned. "If you change your mind, I'm at the Muggle club down the road."

He turned to go, then looked back again. "And Ron? You can come too, you know, get down with the girls, have a little fun. It wouldn't hurt."

This seemed to annoy Ron more than anything else Cormac had said. He raised his head from the sofa cushion.

"Look, Cormac, can you just _get the fuck out_? I'm tired of people clogging up my house, and being irritating and rude and just unappreciative." Cormac nodded.

"I get it," he said. "Hermione's just not really a good houseguest, is she?"

"_OUT_!"

And the front door clicked shut.

The blissful silence fell again. But it was not to last.

"Mummy?" a little voice from the doorway peeped.

It was Stefan. And Andrei. And Stefan had a bloody nose. And was crying profusely. He stumbled into the room, Andrei following nervously.

"H-he punched meeeee," Stefan wailed, in an uncharacteristic moment of childish whining. His brother shifted uncomfortably.

"I _didn't_," he insisted. "My hand slipped!" And a lot of screaming and shouting ensued. Even when Hermione had fixed Stefan's bloody nose in a heartbeat, it carried on, getting louder and louder and louder. This woke Katerina, who before that point had been once again sleeping soundly in a small carrycot by Hermione's chair, and she promptly began crying again. When it had reached its crescendo, Ron stood up.

:Will you just _SHUT UP_?" he yelled.

The boys looked up at him, screams dying in their throats, eyes wide. Stefan's lip began to tremble. Hermione swooped into action.

"Boys, you've both been quite naughty," she said, kneeling down to them. "But if you go upstairs and play – _nicely _– and be quiet, then it'll be fine." Stefan nodded.

"Okay, Mummy," he mumbled. The two of them tiptoed out of the room, eyes wide and shiny with pooled tears, and Hermione stood from her kneeling position and bent down to pick up the still sobbing baby in the carrycot, patting her on the back. She hurried up the stairs to the nursery, and after a few minutes the sobs quietened. There were voices, which sounded like Hermione's and Gabrielle's, and then silence returned. Hermione walked back into the living room. She turned to Ron, who was still standing, red-faced.

He looked back at her. "What?"

"Ron, they're _three and five_. They don't take being told to 'shut up' nicely," she said angrily. "Look, if you're going to be like this, then maybe I _should _go with Cormac." Well. Where had _that _come from? But she couldn't back out now and make herself look an idiot. She went into the hall to grab her coat, turning back to say, "If you get any nicer and more compassionate towards small children, let me know."

It wasn't exactly the snappiest insult in the world, but knowing Hermione it was probably the best she could do.

* * *

She walked through the summery night air. It was eight o' clock, but the sky was still light.

Hermione didn't know _why _she'd said she'd go with Cormac. Because she really, really didn't want to. But she really, really didn't want to hang out with a grumpy ex-fiancée and his wife, and since she had already asked Gabrielle to look after the children, she couldn't go back immediately. So it was off to the local Muggle club or wherever Cormac normally hung out.

Her boots clicked on the pavement – for some reason, the street was deserted and silent, despite the warm summer air. The bushes that bordered the street rustled in the wind. Hermione stopped. Hang on. There was no wind. It was a totally calm evening. So what – ?

Turning, she had just enough time to see a hand emerge from a bush and clamp around her own before the world began to spin and the street disappeared.

* * *

**A/N: I'll leave it there for you. Just to leave a little cliffy, although some of you may guess what's happened. **

**See you next time!**


	20. The Dark Alleyway

**Hey!**

**I suppose this chapter isn't the best of chapters, but neither are most of the ones I've written. I've tried quite hard on this chapter though, so I hope you enjoy it. I've also been working on some oneshots, which are quite fun to write. Hopefully you'll see them soon.**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**

She was in a dark alleyway, lit dimly by lamps from the nearby street. She could hear music drifting from somewhere, a heavy dance beat with no particular tune. Voices echoed from a couple walking past, holding hands. It was warm. The air clung to her, but not in an uncomfortable way. It felt like she was being cradled by the warm currents around her.

"Hermione."

That voice made her start. It was deep and sonorous and accented. It vibrated through her, making her shudder. She looked up, squinting as the light from one of the lamps reflected into her eyes. Viktor Krum looked down at her.

"Viktor!" she cried. "What the hell – "

"Don't talk."

He leaned down to touch her face; she pushed him away. "Viktor, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" she hissed, taking a step back. He matched this with a step forward.

"Hermione, I have realised that I miss you. I vill not stand and let that... that prick keep you avay." His voice was husky. "Come back vith me. Please, Hermione. I loff you – "

She cut him off. Furiously, she put both hands on his chest and pushed him back. "Viktor, haven't you done enough? Isn't my life in enough tatters? Or do you have to rip it some more? You know what, Ron may not be the nicest person in the world, or the smartest, and Cormac might not be the best housemate, but those two are better than you will ever be. I've seen _Witch Weekly_. Unless you clean up your act, you can be sure that this" – she gestured to the space between them – "is never going to work. So _clear off_."

The look on his face was complete confusion. A good look at him told her he was drunk, a fact she should have realised as soon as she had seen him. She was just about to turn away, to Apparate home in disgust, when his hand was on her arm again and suddenly she was pushed against the wall of the alley with Krum's body pressed against hers and his breath at her ear.

"Oh, but Hermione... I cannot resist," he whispered.

"Viktor, get _off me_!" she cried, scrambling at the brick wall behind her. "Let me go, Viktor, or I will – "

With a laugh, he leaned down. "You know you vont me really. You haff alvays vonted me."

"Viktor... Viktor, no... get off me, Viktor, please!" she stammered. Her courage had suddenly melted away into the recesses of her brain.

There was nothing she could do now.

She was totally trapped. His strong arms were keeping her from struggling. She could smell his liquor-tinted breath, hear his heavy breathing. The experience was disgusting and terrifying and completely horrific. When she thought it could not get any worse, Krum flicked his wand at the streetlamp which was casting the soft, comforting glow across the alleyway. It flickered, and went out. Suddenly, they were enveloped in darkness. Menacing, creeping darkness.

"Hermione," Krum whispered in her ear, "I loff you. You know I loff you..."

Eyes widening in shock and fear, Hermione tried to press herself further back against the wall in a vain attempt to get away from him. Her wand was in the back pocket of her jeans, and her hands couldn't reach over his massive biceps.

"Viktor, stop... stop, please, Viktor, stop, let me go, please, let me go!" she whimpered. If she couldn't reach her wand, she couldn't escape without Apparating with Krum. And she probably wouldn't end up where she wanted, what with him hanging on to her, distracting and scaring her. She might even splinch herself.

The thumping music was still drifting from the street as Krum continued his assault.

Hermione tried to shout for help. "Help me, someone, please, I need help, I – " she began to cry, but before she could finish, or even start to shout properly, Krum had covered her mouth with his and had stopped her. An elderly woman walking by glanced at them and shook her head in disgust. She obviously thought they were just a drunk young couple.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the darkness of the alleyway.

It was a man. Hermione could tell it was a man, as he shouted towards someone in the direction of the blaring music. "I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?" he called, before hurrying down the alley. He started at the sight of Hermione and Krum; the latter was too drunk to even notice the man.

It was obvious that he too thought they were simply drunken lovers, for he didn't say anything as he passed by, intent on getting to the other side of the alleyway. He glanced back once at them, and Hermione willed him to notice her, to notice that she was scared and in pain and definitely not enjoying herself. A whimper escaped her mouth as the figure turned the corner into the next street and was gone.

It felt like her last chance had gone with him. She could feel her eyes closing; a buzzing filled her ears and her limbs became weak. Hermione couldn't fight Krum anymore –he was strong and drunk: a lethal combination. His mouth was still smashed against hers. It felt like kissing an octopus; his hands were all over her.

And then, suddenly, without warning, they weren't.

The streetlamp came back on. When she looked at Krum to see what had stopped him, he wasn't there either. She looked down. He was groaning on the dirty floor of the alley, struggling to breathe as if the wind had been knocked out of him. And above him, grinning with pleasure at the sight of his groaning form, was Cormac McLaggen.

His face immediately turned to something that was a mix of shock and happiness when he saw Hermione.

"Hermione... I'm really sorry I didn't realise it was you just now! I... I just wasn't concentrating... but anyway, are you okay? Did he, um... hurt you?"

She looked up at him. It was a struggle not to break down crying right there – she had no idea why. "No, I – I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up, I suppose. He just... he just grabbed me, and suddenly I was here. He's drunk. Be careful..." She drifted off as Cormac approached Krum, who was groaning on the cobbles.

With a laugh, Cormac nudged him with his foot. Krum rolled over, muttering angrily but unable to get up.

"I think I sorted him out pretty well," Cormac said smugly. Even when coming across as the knight in shining armour, he had to ruin it. He raised his wand.

"_Stupify_!"

Krum slumped, unconscious, to the floor again. His heavy brows were knitted together as if he were thinking as he dreamed. Cormac laughed, awkwardly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked her. "You looked really scared back there. Are you sure you're not hurt?"

She was beginning to feel faint. The world was spinning in a haze of colour around her. There was barely enough time for her to nod before the darkness closed in on her and she felt herself hitting the ground with a dull thud. After that, her mind knew nothing.

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**A/N: This was a really difficult chapter to write; mainly because I hate showing characters in a really bad light and Krum is obviously shown in a bad light here. This is also a sensitive subject, please tell me if I wrote it well or if I am really bad and should steer clear of things like this. **

**Sorry for not updating in about 715 years but school has caught up with me and I have absolutely no time to write. Half term is here now, though, and this is the final product of it. **

**Pleasepleaseplease revieewwww tell me if you hateed it or looved it or anyything :) **


	21. Unlikely Saviour

**Well, um. This is kind of awkward.**

**I know I have been away for about 27 thousand years. And a half.**

**How about we get to know each other again? My name is Ellie, and I write fanfiction. This story is about Krum and Hermione and Ron and other characters... And you are my readers, my loyal readers who I have betrayed in the most hideous way. **

**Honestly, I am SO sorry about not updating this story in almost a year.**

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The light... it's brighter than the smile of a Seeker who's caught the Snitch, brighter than an exploding star, brighter... brighter than the fire at the Burrow, where she had spent so many summers... brighter than anything she had ever seen... it sears her eyes as they open...

Suddenly the world came into focus. Cormac was gazing down at her, worry creasing his brows. The streetlamp he had re-lit was the bright light that was invading her eyeballs.

"Hermione," he muttered, in a relieved tone. "You're okay! You've been unconscious for two minutes, and I couldn't revive you. I was worried I'd get in trouble with Ron for letting you die on my watch – and you too, of course. I was really worried about you as well." He glanced around to where Krum still lay on the floor, his rising and falling chest the only indication that he was still alive. "I stunned him good and proper. He won't come round for at least an hour," he said, smug as ever.

She tried to get up, but she was still dizzy, and she slumped back to the ground, exhausted. Cormac looked embarrassed. "Oh yeah... um, let's get you home now." He glanced around the alleyway to make sure nobody was watching, and then waved his wand to extinguish the streetlight once more. Then, momentarily forgetting that she was still sprawled on the ground, he began to button his coat and tidy his hair; this spurred Hermione to cough loudly and angrily.

"Oh, fuck, sorry!" Cormac cried, leaning down to scoop her into his arms. She was surprised at how strong he was – he picked her up with no trouble at all. Then again, Cormac had always been a bag of muscle, and even if he'd lost a little of it, there was still a lot there. She let herself drift, there in his arms. If she concentrated hard she could almost imagine that Cormac's blonde hair had turned red, and he had grown taller, and his limbs had stretched, and it was Ron holding her, and not this gorilla who had picked up a wand one day. It was Ron who held her carefully while they Apparated back to the house, and it was Ron who set her down gently on the sofa. Except... it wasn't. Because Ron was already on the sofa when they arrived; he leapt out of the way and gestured for Cormac to lay Hermione there, and for Gabrielle, who had been sitting next to him, to go and see to it that the children were in bed and out of the way.

"What happened?" he demanded. "What did you do?"

Cormac looked indignant. "I saved her!" he retorted, in a self-satisfied way. "That douche Krum had her in an alleyway. If I hadn't been there, he could have hurt her."

"Well, she's not exactly doing amazingly now, is she?" Ron said, gesturing to where Hermione lay on the sofa. "Are you sure it was even Krum?"

"Yes," Cormac replied. "I stunned him. He's still in that alleyway."

An expression of frustration and anger flashed across Ron's face. "You idiot! You just _left _him there? Lying in an alleyway? What the fuck, Cormac? What's going to happen now, huh? His lawyers will be all over you!"

There was a pause. Hermione smiled inwardly – it was nice to have two guys both fighting over her. Especially when Ron was acting like this; all protective and sensible. This was what she had always wanted him to be.

The silence was broken by a small voice from the doorway. "Is Mummy okay?" asked Andrei, tentatively. After this there was another silence, in which Hermione could tell that both Cormac and Ron were trying to think of something to say to this small, worried child who had no idea what had really gone on. They both spoke at once.

"Mummy's fine, Mummy's just a bit tired," Ron said.

At the same time, Cormac blurted, "It's okay Andrei, your mummy's just, erm, a bit sick."

Ron shot Cormac a glare. Andrei looked even more worried. "Sick? Mummy's sick?"

"No, Andrei, like I said, Mummy's tired," Ron hurriedly said. He knelt down to the little boy's level. "She just needs some rest. Don't worry. Tomorrow she'll be fine – maybe she'll even play soldiers with you. Okay?"

Andrei nodded.

"Good. Now, I'm pretty sure it's quite late, and waaaay past your bedtime. Off to your room – Gabrielle will put you to bed." With a smile, Andrei scampered out of the room, and Ron straightened up. "What were you thinking, Cormac?" he demanded. "You never tell a kid that their parent is sick. They worry. I remember once when I was young, and Dad got ill. Percy told Ginny, who was only four, that Dad had to go into hospital. It wasn't very serious but Ginny was terrified; she had nightmares for weeks!"

From her position on the sofa, Hermione saw Cormac mutter an apology. The men were standing at either end of the sofa, Ron by Hermione's head, Cormac by her feet. She could practically feel Ron's anger radiating off of him.

"Well, what I am I supposed to do now, then?" Cormac hissed. "Just go back to that alleyway, get Krum, and Apparate him back to his house or something? Act like it never happened?"

Ron considered this for a while. "Yeah, that was pretty much all I had." He shrugged. "Just leave him outside his house – there'll be protection against going inside."

With a hmmph-ing sound, Cormac headed to the hall, and Hermione heard the _crack _as he Apparated. She felt a lot better now; she sat up and glanced at Ron. He had slumped into a chair and was sitting with his head in his hands.

"Um... Ron?"

He jumped when she said his name. "Hermione! Good, you're okay. Sorry, I was just... thinking." He paused, then stood up. "What happened, Hermione? In that alleyway? Is Cormac telling the truth?"

"Of course he is!" Hermione said, surprised. "Victor just cornered me in the alleyway, and I couldn't reach for my wand. Cormac saved me. He didn't do anything to hurt me, if that's what you're thinking. Ron, he might be a pompous twat, but he would never do that. It was all Victor – I should have seen it coming, really." She was astonished that Ron could think that Cormac could even think of doing something like that. "Cormac's been a... a sort of gentleman tonight. Give or take."

"Sorry, I just... I don't know. I didn't want to believe it, I think." Ron's face was pale and drawn, and he looked exhausted.

"Look, I'm feeling better now. Victor didn't actually hurt me, just scared me. I'll be fine by myself if you want to go to bed," she offered. She wanted to spend time with him, but at the same time, she cared about him, and Ron definitely needed some rest.

Immediately, Ron's face brightened a little. "Yeah, okay," he said. Then, "Are you sure you'll be okay down here?"

"Yeah," she replied, with only a trace of wistfulness in her voice.

With that, Ron crossed the room and headed upstairs to his and Gabrielle's bedroom. Hermione heard the voices of first him, and then Gabrielle; the first sounded tired, the second sounded worried. Then the door closed and she couldn't hear anything anymore. She lay back, feeling suddenly worn out again, and closed her eyes. She wondered what would have happened if it had been Ron who had found her, Ron who had saved her – but as soon as the thought popped into her head, she felt awful. Gabrielle was so kind and sweet to her, and Hermione could tell that she genuinely cared about what happened to her. _I sometimes wish she would go away. I sometimes don't care about what would happen to her if Ron and I did fall in love again_, thought Hermione. _I'm a bitch. A complete and utter bitch – I kissed Gabrielle's husband. And I want him to leave her for me..._

Suddenly, a _crack _of someone Apparating into the hallway jerked her out of her thoughts. Cormac was back.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, coming back into the living room. "You're awake. So you're feeling better?"

"Yes," she replied, sighing inwardly at having to repeat all of this _'are you feeling better' _spiel again. "I'm fine. I just need a little rest. I might be going up to bed, now, actually." She sat up, and got up off the sofa. The world spun a little, but she managed to stay upright. "Night, Cormac."

"Night, Hermione. See you in the morning, I guess," he said, sprawling across the sofa.

"Oh, and Cormac?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for, well... saving me. I really appreciate it."

And then she raced upstairs before he could reply.

Once upstairs, she found Stefan and Andrei already asleep, curled up. Katerina wasn't. She was sitting up in her cot, grizzling softly and playing with a stuffed animal. Despite her fatigue, Hermione lifted her out of the cot and fed her, and then played with her for a little while before putting her back. The baby fell asleep almost immediately, and Hermione could finally go to bed.

On her way back from the bathroom, she heard voices coming from Ron and Gabrielle's room.

"Ron, _ma cheri, _are you sure?"

_Sure about what? _she thought. She stopped and leaned against the wall, where she could clearly hear the conversation. Sure, what she was doing was pretty dodgy, but from Gabrielle's tone, she could tell that whatever Ron was sure about, it was serious. She needed to hear.

"Gabby, look, I know you've enjoyed having Hermione and the kids in the house, but... well, they just can't stay here. And neither can Cormac. It's too difficult and too dangerous."

Hermione blanched. Leave? Now? When Krum had tried – literally two hours ago – to attack her?

"Do you not want to protect 'er? If she lives on 'er own, she will be more in danger than she is now!"

She nodded. Gabrielle had the right idea.

"Having her here puts all of us in danger. You're pregnant, Gabby, with my child. I don't want anything to happen. But... but I was thinking Cormac could move out too – face it, Gabby, he's a bloody terrible guest. They could move in together. They're both total basket cases at the moment. He'll protect her, seeing as he saved her once already." This last part was said in sarcastic tones.

At this, Hermione's face grew red and she had to fight not to burst into the room and shout at Ron until he apologised and said of course she could stay, for as long as she wanted, and that he would always be there for her, and that no matter how annoying her children got, he would always love having them around and would raise them as his own and...

Oh crap. Ron was speaking again.

"I'm telling them in a few days – it's not really fair on Hermione to kick her out just after being attacked by her ex-husband, is it?"

"It's not fair at all, Ron!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm just doing what's best for all of us. They have to go."

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**A/N: Again, I am terribly, terribly sorry for not writing this in so long. I don't really have the right to ask you to review, so I'm not going to. You don't have to review. Just try and forgive me for my crimes against fanfiction readers :(**

**See you in another 65 million years (or hopefully a little less than that. Maybe a month)**


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